A Ride to Remember
by babygrrl
Summary: *Chapter 9 is UP!* When Harry and Hermione miss the train, they are forced to confront their feelings for each other. Talking dragons, evil Death Eaters, lots of smut, and few surprises.
1. Too Late?

**Author's Note:  I don't own any of these characters, which are in fact the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers, etc., etc.  You know the deal.  **

A million thanks to all those who've taken the time to read and review this, my first work of fan fiction.  Your thoughtful critiques are truly welcomed.  As a little girl, I never wanted to reach the last page of the book or the end of the movie.  I always wanted to see what the characters would do next.  Guess this is my way of keeping that little girl alive.  Hope you like it! --- babygrrl

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"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!"  Hermione smacked her hand repeatedly against the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, which remained infuriatingly solid.  

Harry stood to one side rubbing his shoulder.  His dark hair was even more disarrayed than usual and his glasses hung from one ear.  The contents of his trolley, including a cage containing a very disgruntled Hedwig, lay strewn about.  They had been running late, literally, and he'd taken the barrier at full speed.  Or tried to anyway.  Instead he had crashed rather spectacularly, sending his trunk, Hedwig and other assorted parcels flying, and earning a rather disapproving look from the station attendant.  Only then had he thought to check his watch, which read 11:01.  They were exactly one minute late, but the Hogwarts Express, punctual as always, had left platform 9 ¾ on the dot.  The barrier was now closed and they were stranded.

Hermione had ceased slapping the wall and was now banging her head against it in frustration.  Crookshanks, her mangy marmalade cat, gave a loud "Mrrrrrow!" of alarm from inside his carrier.

"Oh, shut up," Harry muttered crossly as he went to grab Hermione by the shoulders and steer her back to her abandoned trolley before she gave herself a concussion.  The Muggles around them were beginning to stare.  "Bloody cat.  This is all _your fault, y'know."  Rather than dignify this with a response, Crookshanks gave Harry a baleful glare and busied himself with bathing his hindquarters, as if to say, here's what I think of __that.  Harry narrowed his eyes at the cat, steering Hermione away from the wall.  As he did so, he noticed once again how good her hair smelled.  He'd been noticing it for years now, but he always forcefully reminded himself that friends didn't go round sniffing each other's hair.  Even if one's friend happened to have hair the color of chestnuts and honey that floated around her face like a soft, fluffy cloud.  He wondered what it would feel like in his hands . . ._

"MRRRRREEEYOW!"  Harry had inadvertently trod on Crookshanks' tail, which protruded from the carrier like a moth-eaten bit of rope.  

"Oh, you poor darling,"  Hermione was kneeling in front of the carrier and crooning to the indignant cat.  "There, there sweetheart.  I'm sure Harry didn't mean to hurt you."  She glared up at him.  She had to tilt her head way back in order to do so.  At seventeen, Harry was no longer a skinny little boy.  He'd grown and filled out these last few years.  The height he had gained might have made him look gangly, but instead was balanced nicely by the muscle he'd put on in Quidditch training.  Not that she noticed such things.

Right now, all 6'1" of him was outraged.  His green eyes blazed with annoyance.  "What are you looking at _me like that for?!  If that great mangy hair-ball you call a cat hadn't taken off like that, we wouldn't be in this mess, would we?"_

Hermione ignored him and resumed soothing her pet.  "Poor baby.  You've been through a lot today, haven't you?"

"He's been through a lot?  _He's been ---"  Harry was spluttering._

They had arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare.  Hermione's parents had offered to give Harry a lift, and Harry's Uncle Vernon, who despised all things magical and went purple in the face whenever anyone so much as mentioned the word "Hogwarts", was more than happy to accept the offer.  It helped that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were Muggles.  They arrived in a perfectly normal automobile, rather than bursting through the fireplace as Ron's parents had one year.

No sooner had they bid Hermione's parents farewell than Crookshanks, for reasons known only to himself, had leapt from Hermione's arms and disappeared into the crowd of busy commuters.  The half hour the friends had planned to spend having a pumpkin juice and catching up on their adventures over the summer while waiting for the train had instead been spent combing the station for Hermione's lost pet.  Harry was particularly disappointed.  He'd been looking forward to spending some time with Hermione without Ron.  But Hermione had been frantic.  She'd thrown those big brown eyes at him and he hadn't been able to resist.  Off to look for Crookshanks they went.  By the time the animal had been found and properly secured in his carrier, they had had to run for it.

Unfortunately, they weren't quick enough.  Harry cast another look of dislike at the now sleeping feline and shook his head in disgust.  Now what?  He rubbed his aching shoulder.

"Harry, do you realize what this means?"  Hermione had a wild look in her eyes.  

"Yes," he replied sourly.  "I think I've bloody gone and dislocated my shoulder."

"We've missed the train!"

"Really?  What was your first clue?"

"Stop it.  This is horrible.  We're going to be _late for school."  In Hermione's world, this was a major disaster.  "What are we supposed to do now?"_

"Relax, Hermione.  It's not the end of the world.  I've been here before, you know."  He was referring to an incident in his second year.  Then, Dobby the house elf had tampered with the barrier in an effort to prevent Harry from returning to Hogwarts in order to protect him.  This time, well . . .  he scratched his head.  He wasn't sure if the barrier always closed after the train had left or if it would reopen again later.  He was pretty sure that the Hogwarts Express made only the one trip, though.  Wanting to reassure Hermione, who was on the verge of losing it, he said, "Don't worry.  We made it to school that time, didn't we?  I'm sure we'll manage."

"Oh, and I suppose you think we can waltz out to parking lot and steal another enchanted car, do you?  That little escapade turned out well for you and Ron, didn't it?"  Hermione's voice had a slightly hysterical tinge.

Harry winced remembering the encounter with the Whomping Willow and the scandal that had ensued after several Muggles had spotted the flying Ford Anglia.  "I meant that there are other ways of getting to Hogwarts.  We just have to keep our heads, that's all."

He thought for a moment.  "I don't suppose you still have that hourglass thingy.  The one you used to turn back time so you could take all those extra classes in third year."  It had also come in quite handy in saving Sirius, his godfather, from the dementors.

Hermione frowned at him disapprovingly. "No, but even if I did, you know we're not allowed to do magic outside of school.  I'd expect a seventh year to remember that."  Harry loved it when she scowled at him like that.  It was why he often went out of his way to provoke her.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Forgive me, your Prefect-ness."  Hermione had been made a Prefect last year.  "You sound like Percy Weasley.  What do you suggest then?"

Hermione sighed and ran her hands through her hair.  This had an extraordinary effect on her breasts beneath the snug sweater she wore.  Harry forgot about Percy and everything else, his mouth suddenly dry.  Good grief.  What was the matter with him?  This was his best friend, for godsakes!  The one who badgered him about studying and nagged him about breaking rules whenever he and Ron went on one of their escapades.  The one who was always, always loyal and who had saved him more than once in the battle against You-Know-Who with her quick thinking and clever spells.  So what if in addition to being a magical genius, she happened to possess a magnificent pair of . . .

Harry shook himself.  Steady, lad.  This is Hermione, here.  You don't want to go mucking up one of the best friendships you've ever had.  

"The heart wants what it wants," he remembered Ron saying to him when Harry had questioned him about his rather stormy relationship with Fleur Delacour.   Then he'd grinned and added, "The heart also wants what the gonads want.  That's the only trouble."

All Harry knew was that all his body parts seemed to want Hermione and it was getting harder and harder to keep them in line.  If Hermione only knew what he was thinking, she'd probably hex him into next week.

"I know!"

Harry jolted.  "Er, what?  I mean, you do?"  What was she talking about here?

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead.  Harry thought that between the barrier and her hand, Hermione's forehead had seen quite a lot of abuse today, which was a shame as it was such an attractive forehead.  He tried to focus on what she was saying.

"Why didn't I think of it before?  The Knight Bus, Harry!  We can take it to Hogwarts." 

"Except you're forgetting that the Knight Bus only runs at night.  It's not even noon yet.  What do we do between now and then?"

Now that their transportation dilemma was solved, Hermione's mood was greatly improved.  She shot him a rare mischievous look and Harry felt something tighten in his gut.  "Oh,_ I'll wager we can find something to do." _


	2. Just Friends

At Hermione's insistence, Hedwig had been dispatched with a letter to Ron, who presumably would be able to explain to the Professors that she and Harry had been delayed but would be arriving the following morning.

Hermione fretted over what Ron would think of their apparent abandonment of him.  "What will Ron _think?"_

Harry privately thought that Ron was most likely ecstatic at the opportunity to share a private compartment with the delectable Fleur all the way to Hogwarts.  He decided not to mention this to Hermione, though.  He slid a glance at her, trying to determine if her normal worrying (when didn't Hermione worry?) was masking a deeper emotion.

Aside from the wish to preserve his friendship with her, Harry's friendship with Ron was the other big reason he had never dared to reveal his true feelings about Hermione.  He remembered the Yule Ball during their fourth year when he and Ron had first noticed that Hermione was, in fact, a girl.  He'd been wrapped up in his crush on Cho Chang, but he distinctly remembered that moment of realization.

Thereafter, he'd been somehow more _aware of Hermione.  She was still his friend, his best mate, but he found himself noticing little details about her that he had previously overlooked.  The way she nibbled her lower lip when she was lost in thought, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration.  The way her smile slowly stole across her normally serious features until her whole face was lit up with it.  Harry gritted his teeth.  The way her bloody hair always smelled like flowers._

It had been difficult watching her date.  Viktor Krum had been the first in a series of boyfriends, and none of them had been good enough for her as far as Harry was concerned.  Not even Ron.  He had always told himself that his feelings were simply those of the protective older-brother variety.  After a few disastrous tries, he gave up trying to warn her off about any of the silly jerks she insisted on going out with.  He bit his tongue and nodded his head when she confided in him, which he supposed was the proper best friend, brotherly type thing to do.  When the relationships ended, as they inevitably did, he refrained from saying I told you so, or from doing other inappropriate things such as somersaults.  He gave her a shoulder to cry on, said something to make her laugh (god, her laugh!) and they went back to being pals.  

He didn't know why it had come as such a blow when she began dating Ron in the middle of fifth year.  He had known Ron's feelings for Hermione before Ron would even admit them to himself.  Ron, unlike Harry, had never seen the need to practice restraint when commenting on one of Hermione's boyfriends.  In fact, he felt compelled to point out as many flaws as possible ("Did you see the forehead on that one?  Definitely a receding hair line.  Be bald as a garden gnome by the time he's thirty.").  He and Hermione had gotten into more than one shouting match over what she felt was his ridiculously overprotective behavior.  Harry grinned remembering that fool from Ravenclaw who had made a remark about Hermione's Muggle parentage after she had broken up with him.  Ron had had the poor bastard coughing up slugs for a week.

Harry himself had never seen the need to do anything that overt.  If a bloke was stupid enough to do something hurtful to Hermione, he'd quietly take him aside and have a few words.  Words which often involved a reference to his infamous scar followed by a brief summary of what he'd done to the one who'd given it to him.  Any inferences the hapless git might make about what Harry would do to _him if he ever disrespected Hermione again were not his responsibility.    A lot of the guys Hermione dated seemed to be very high strung.  After one of his little chats, many of them found maintaining a relationship with her to be too great a strain on their nerves.  A shame, really, but Harry felt he was only doing his duty as friend._

Then, after years of bickering, Ron and Hermione had finally come to him one day to say that they were going to give it a try.  Everyone had seen it coming, including Harry, but he still felt as his insides had been ripped out and stomped on by a mountain troll.  He was still raw from the ordeal of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Cedric Diggory's death.  No matter what anyone said, Harry would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.  That summer had been a painful blur.  Only Ron and Hermione's owls had gotten him through.  Being back at school had helped, but seeing Ron and Hermione together was almost more than he could bear.

He told himself that he was being petty and stupid.  That he was upset because he felt left out, which was both childish and small-minded.  One day, after a particularly rough Quidditch match (he often took his frustrations out on the Quidditch field and as a result Gryffindor had a record year), when he should have felt like celebrating but instead wanted to weep with frustration, he finally admitted it to himself.  He wasn't angry with his friends for excluding him.  He was sick with jealousy.  He saw Ron and Hermione walking across the field to congratulate him, his arm slung casually about her shoulders.  It made him want to snap his Firebolt in two.  Ron was his best friend.  _And he hated him for taking what should have been his.  The intensity of his feelings shocked him._

At that moment he resolved never, ever to tell them.  The alternative would be to alienate the two people he loved most.  And he did love them.  Ron as the brother he'd never had and truest mate anyone could ever want, and Hermione as . . . well, that didn't matter.

When Ron and Hermione's relationship fizzled after a few months and the two amicably returned to being friends, Harry was both elated and disgusted with himself.  You pathetic git, he thought.  You don't deserve either of them.

Now he watched Hermione as she tied the scrap of parchment to Hedwig's leg and wondered if she harbored any residual feelings for Ron.


	3. Changes

"Well that's that."  Hermione sent Hedwig off in a soft flurry of wings.  She turned to find Harry regarding her with an unreadable expression. "I hope Ron isn't too upset with us."  Was it her imagination or did something flicker in his eyes when she mentioned Ron?

Harry unfolded his lanky frame from the wall he'd been leaning against and began piling things back onto their trolleys.  For a moment, Hermione stood gazing appreciatively as he hefted boxes and trunks, her mouth turned up in a half-smile.  There was no harm in looking, she told herself, as she had told herself many times before.  After all it would be a crime not to take the time to admire such a fine specimen of a wizard.  The muscles in his arms flexed as he deposited one last box on top of her trunk.

"What on earth have you got in there, Hermione?  Boulders?"  Harry was breathing hard.

With an effort, Hermione tore her gaze from his chest, which was heaving slightly from the exertion.  Had it always been this broad?  She didn't think so.  She'd been studying Harry's body covertly for some time now, and she definitely detected some changes, all of them favorable.  "Hmmm, what?" She found a pair of green eyes regarding her with exasperated amusement.  

"You know, the last time I checked, they have sinks at Hogwarts.  You didn't need to pack yours."

"Very funny."

"It's hours before sunset.  We can't hail the Knight Bus before then.  Are we just going to hang about the platform with all this stuff for the rest of the day?"

"'Course not, silly.  We'll get a locker."

"Big enough for all this?"  Harry indicated her trolley which was piled precariously high.  "Not to mention the furred wonder over here."  Crookshanks opened one eye and then closed it again dismissively.

"Don't worry about it.  Follow me."

Hermione led the way to a row of grey metal compartments, stopping when she reached one that was marked "Out of Order."  Taking hold of the rusty combination lock, she rapped it sharply three times against the door.  Next she stood on her tiptoes to try and reach the vents at the top of the locker but couldn't quite reach.  "Give me a boost," she said, repressing the tiny shiver that ran up her spine when his large hands clasped her about the waist and lifted.    Placing her mouth close to the slotted openings, she whispered, "Flibbertygibbet."  Harry lowered her back to the floor and she felt a pang of disappointment as his hands left her.

The door of the locker swung open slowly and Harry gasped.  Instead of the usual compartment, there was a spacious looking room lined with shelves.  Against one wall was a rather bored looking witch, seated at desk.  Harry quickly looked back over his shoulder at all the Muggles milling around, but Hermione just grinned.  "It's all right; it just looks like an ordinary locker to them.  Mrs. Weasley told me about this locker last year when I went shopping with her for Ginny's birthday present.  It's really convenient.  Just leave your things with the attendant and come back for them when you're ready to go.  It costs 5 sickles, but I think it's well worth it."

"Fill this out, please."  The witch slid a claim slip across the desk to Hermione along with a quill.  She caught sight of Crookshanks.  "Leaving the cat?"  

"Yes, please," said Hermione.  "We'll only be gone for a few hours."

The witch did not look thrilled, but waved her wand and muttered something under her breath.  In a corner, a cage containing dishes of cat food and water appeared, along with what must have been a litter box.  "Don't want him messing up the place.  Owls, now, they're no trouble.  Don't go round scratching things up."  She gave Crookshanks a steely look.

"C'mon, Harry, let's go."  Hermione grabbed his hand and led him off.

To her great surprise, Harry did not pull away from her grasp.  His long fingers curled around hers.  His palms were callused from years of gripping his broom while he darted after the elusive Snitch in countless Quidditch matches.  She had a sudden vivid image of those large, roughened palms sliding over her body.  Her breasts, her thighs . . . She lost her balance and stumbled.

Harry turned to catch her and she found herself smashed up against his hard and undeniably broad chest.  Oh good one, she congratulated herself.  Enjoying this, aren't you?  Look at you.  Reduced to feeling up the poor boy's chest with your nose.  Get a grip, Granger.  She straightened, giving him an apologetic look.  She did not take his hand again.

She was finding out what Voldemort had discovered all those years ago.  Touching Harry Potter was dangerous.  She'd thought she was over it – her silly schoolgirl crush on him.  She was damned if she was going to be one of the simpering idiots who followed him all over school and waited for him after Quidditch practice.  Well, she did go with him all over school, but that was because they were friends.  Buddies.  And she did wait for him after Quidditch practice sometimes, but she did _not simper._

Hermione Granger was an imminently sensible girl.  She had very little tolerance for impractical crushes which would most definitely ruin an old and deeply valued friendship.  She simply waited for the feelings to pass.  The trouble was, it had been years now and the feelings didn't seem to be passing.  Dating other people hadn't helped.  Even poor, sweet Ron.  

She wondered why she hadn't had a problem dating Ron.  After all he, too, was her best friend.  Somehow, going out with Ron was safe.  Safe, nice, sweet.  All those words had made Ron cringe when she'd tried to explain her feelings to him.  He didn't want to be safe, he'd said.  He wanted to make someone tremble.  In the end, they had agreed that they were better as friends.  She had feared it would make things awkward, but in fact, their failed foray into romance actually brought the two of them closer together.  Ron relaxed about her love life.  He still offered advice and pointed out flaws ("I'm serious.  I think his left leg is shorter than his right.  See how he kind of tilts off to the side?"), but somehow she wasn't offended.  It was as if accepting that their love for each other would always be platonic had lifted a huge burden from both of them.

She grinned.  Well, Ron certainly wasn't getting safe, nice and sweet with Fleur.  The part-veela girl was many things, but not those.  Fiery, passionate, and volatile were more like it.  She'd teased Ron about being careful what he wished for.  Ron had just laughed and said that at least life with Fleur was never boring.

"What are you thinking about, Hermione?"  Harry had noticed her smiling.

"Ron," she answered, truthfully.

"Oh."  If Hermione didn't know better, she'd swear that Harry looked disappointed.  "Watch out there!"  They had left the station and emerged onto the street.  Hermione had been about to step off the curb into a large, nasty looking puddle.  "C'mon.  Here."

Be careful what you wish for, Hermione thought as she reached out to take the hand he was offering her.


	4. Caution to the wind

It was a warm day for September in London and the amusement park was filled with Muggle families and couples enjoying the mild weather.  Harry stood watching as Hermione purchased some cotton candy from a vendor with a brightly colored cart.  Absentmindedly, he rubbed his palm against his thigh.

When Hermione had grabbed his hand in the train station, he thought his heart would leap out of his chest.  Bit silly, really.  It's not like he'd never touched her hand before, for heaven's sake.  She'd often grabbed his hand when she wanted to drag him off to see some moldering scrap of parchment in the library detailing the Ghost Rebellion of 1341 or some such nonsense.  It was no big deal.  Except that today it was.

Harry wasn't sure why.  But ever since they'd missed the train, he had had the feeling that unexpected things were going to happen today.  He felt like his body was some sort of giant antenna, tuned excruciatingly to every nuance of Hermione Granger.  When he'd put his hands around her waist to lift her up so she could whisper into the locker vent, it had taken every ounce of control he had to turn her loose again.  It felt so . . . _right.  He'd wanted to pull her closer and bend his head to hers and . . . _

Hermione was running towards him with her cotton candy, her face lit up with that amazing smile.  He felt the breath leave his body.  God, she was beautiful.  Dimly, from somewhere in the recesses of his brain, he was aware that he was not supposed to be taking notice of things like that.  He was not supposed to be feeling this way.  Damned if he knew why though.  He'd been fighting his feelings for Hermione for so long it had almost become instinct, but right at this moment, he couldn't think of a single reason why he should.

Then she was in front of him, her hair mussed by the wind, her soft, brown eyes twinkling up at him, and a wisp of cotton candy clinging to her cheek.  Unthinking, he reached out to brush it away.  It was like touching lightning.  He felt her go absolutely still as something electric leapt between them.  Harry was certain that every hair on his body was standing on end.  He knew it was mad, but he was tired of fighting what had become to him a pointless battle.

"Hermione?"  He wasn't sure what he was asking.  Everything, he supposed.  He was afraid to breathe.

"Harry."  It was a statement.  An answer.  An invitation.

The dark, tousled head bent to hers.  He put his arms around her, pulling her against him, and touched his lips to hers.  _Oh, yes.  His heart was hammering so loudly he was sure she must be able to hear it.  He'd thought he knew something about spells and enchantments, but this was magic unlike any he had ever known._

There was still some part of Harry that warned him to stop now, before things went any further.  He told it to bugger off.  He started to pull back a little, just to get some air, get his bearings, but the tip of her tongue came out to touch his lips.  Desire slammed into him with the force of a bludger.  What little control he had snapped and he surrendered to the urge to deepen the kiss.  Lips, tongues, teeth – nothing else in the world existed except for this heaven.  

He ran a hand up her back, pressing her closer, and heard her breath hitch.  He was gloriously aware of every inch of her that was straining against him.  Hermione must surely be aware of his body's reaction to her.  He was too far gone to care.  There was just enough blood remaining in his head for him to realize that if they didn't stop now they would soon be violating quite a few Muggle laws involving public decency.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled his lips from hers, still holding Hermione to him.  Hermione laid her head against his chest as he kissed the top of her hair.  After a few minutes, when his body had returned to a more presentable state, he held her slightly away and tipped her head up so he could see her face.

His green eyes searched hers questioningly.  To his intense relief, she smiled that thousand watt smile, the one that made him feel ten feet tall whenever she directed it at him.  She reached up and touched the side of his cheek, her smile turning a bit smug as she felt the tremor that ran through his body at this smallest of caresses.  "It's all right, Harry.  It's more than all right, actually."  She reached up on tiptoe to press a kiss to his collar bone.  "I've been waiting ages for you to do that.  But then you've always been a bit slow, haven't you?"  She grinned at him impishly, and then without warning, spun on her heel and took off running towards the Ferris wheel, still clutching the cotton candy in her hands.  The sound of her laughter drifted back to him.

Harry stood there for a moment, stunned.  Then, grinning like an idiot, he took off after her.  He was positive he'd beat her.  His legs were much longer than hers.


	5. Round and Round

Why couldn't she seem to get her breath?  Her sprint across the park hadn't been that far.  And the queue for the Ferris wheel was quite long as it turned out, so they'd been standing there for a while now.  Long enough for Harry to polish off the remainder of her cotton candy and dazzle her with several more deliciously sweet kisses which resulted in much throat-clearing and foot shuffling from the surrounding Muggles.  Hermione's lips curved upward ever so slightly and unconsciously, she raised her fingertips to touch them.

"Stop that."  Hermione shivered at the feel of Harry's warm breath against her ear.  He was standing behind her, his arms clasped around her middle.

She twisted around so she could see his face.  He was frowning at her in mock sternness.  "I mean it, Miss Granger.  Knock that off immediately or suffer the consequences."

"Knock what off?"

Harry quit frowning and grinned at her.  "That thing you do with your mouth.  That little half-smile, where your eyes go all mysterious.  Makes me want to do unspeakable things to you."  He jerked his head in the direction of a red-faced middle aged man holding onto three squirming children of various ages.  "I don't want to be responsible for giving someone a heart attack."  He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Hermione released the breath she had been holding and let out what she very much feared was a giggle.  What else could she do?  The gorgeous young man in front of her was still her friend Harry.  He always made her laugh.  She decided to play, too.

She casually moved closer, bringing her breasts in contact with his chest.  She fluttered her eyelashes and looked up at him, her brown eyes wide and innocent.  "If I don't, will you punish me?"

And then she nearly burst out in a fresh fit of giggles after seeing the look on Harry's face.  The word gobsmacked came to mind.  It was priceless.

"I  . . . I . . ."  

The queue was starting to move.  She put on her bossiest voice, pure vintage Hermione.  "Never mind.  Come along, now."  She grabbed a handful of his shirt and began towing him towards the ride entrance.

Harry followed obediently, still apparently speechless.  Once they were secured in their car and the attendant went on to load the next lot of passengers, Harry turned to her.  "Where did you . . . I mean, what was . . ."  He tried again.  "How do you do stuff like that?"

This time, Hermione took one look at his face and dissolved into laughter.  It went on for so long that Harry began to get irritated.  "What's so funny?  I suppose you think it's bloody entertaining to try out your . . . your . . . feminine wiles on me?  I about passed out back there."

Pulling herself together, Hermione wiped her eyes and regarded Harry with amusement.  "My feminine wiles?  Before today, I didn't think you'd noticed I had any."

"You can't be serious?"  Harry was looking at her like she was crazy.  "How could I not notice?  Me and every other male with a pulse at Hogwarts.  And I wouldn't be surprised if there were some without pulses who noticed as well."  He blushed slightly and looked away.

It was Hermione's turn to be speechless, which was rather remarkable for her.  For once, she seemed unable to formulate a sentence.  She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't that.  This was all a bit surreal for her.  Missing the train, running round an amusement park like a little kid, kissing her best friend in a way that was decidedly un-kidlike.  Today seemed to be a moment outside of time, a case of blissful temporary insanity.  She certainly assumed that's what it was on Harry's part, anyway.  She never expected to hear him say that it wasn't.  She had been positive (and Hermione was often and authoritatively positive) that whatever attraction she felt for him was always one-sided.  What was he saying?

Harry had his head down now and was speaking so softly she had to lean towards him to hear.  "I've wanted you for so long, I almost can't remember a time when I didn't.  There were a million times I wanted to just grab you and tell you, _show you how I felt."  Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers, as if almost fearful of what he would find there._

Hermione found her voice again.  "So why didn't you Harry?  How long were you going to keep this to yourself?"  There were so many things going on inside her, Hermione didn't know what she felt.  Shock, elation, apprehension, and yes . . . there it was, anger.  "How could you not tell me?"

Exasperated, Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more wildly.  "How _could I tell you?  Every time I turned around you were on the arm of some absolute git.  And let's not forget about Ron.  There was no way I could do anything, knowing how he felt about you.  Mates just don't do that to each other."_

"I seem to recall a time or two when you had the opportunity to speak."  Hermione said this quietly.  She thought of the many times she'd cried on his shoulder.  The walks by the lake when (she thought) they'd poured out their hearts to each other.  That's what friends did, didn't they?  "I trusted you Harry.  I confided in you.  And Ron and I broke up ages ago.  Don't use him as an excuse."  As more passengers were boarded, their car swung higher and higher into the air.  She gazed out into the distance.  "Don't lie to me that way."

"I was afraid, all right?!"  The words burst from Harry's mouth almost involuntarily.  Bracing his elbows on his thighs, he leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands.  "I've never felt with anyone the way I feel about you.  I couldn't . . . " He stopped and took a breath.  "I couldn't lose you.  I've lost enough, I think."

Hermione felt a stab of empathy.  His parents, Cedric.  Harry had been through loss, all right.  But, still.  "You were afraid?  You?  You think nothing of dashing off into the Forbidden Forrest to fight Death Eaters and the like or of making a 50 foot dive at a hundred miles an hour so you can catch the snitch and beat Slytherin.  But giving a friend your honesty – that scares you?"

Hermione was leaning forward in her seat now, gripping the safety bar in agitation.  "Found it easier to just pick and choose from amongst those empty-headed females in your fan club, did you?  And if I ever started to get too close to someone you didn't approve of you could just take him out back and show him the old scar to send him packing, is that it?  That's right, I knew about that!  I was just stupid enough to think you did it out of concern for me.  Now I know it's because you just didn't want to see me with anyone else, even though _you were too cowardly to make a move yourself."_

She fell silent for a moment as if regretting the harshness of her words.  When she spoke again, her voice shook.  "D'you know . . . d' you know how many nights I lay awake wondering what was wrong with me?"  She shook her head impatiently, knowing Harry was about to apologize for threatening her would be suitors.  "No, not because of that.  Because . . . because I couldn't figure out why you didn't want me.  Why I could get other boys to look at me, but I could never seem to make you see me."  To her great disgust, she felt tears rising, and angrily, she dashed them away.  "You knew.  You knew how lonely I was, even with you and Ron.  How much I wanted someone.  How could you leave me alone like that when I needed you so much?"  Her eyes shone with tears, but she defiantly refused to let them fall.

Far below them, the attendant completed boarding and switched on the ride.  They sailed lazily through the air.  Wordlessly, Harry slid across the seat and gathered her in his arms.  Instead of pulling away as he had feared she might, she seemed to melt into him.  Nestling her head beneath his chin (he marveled at how perfectly she fit there), he felt her give a long, shuddery sigh.  "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ." he murmured, burying his nose in her hair.  "Can you forgive me for being such an ass?"

He felt her lips curve against his neck.  "Well . . . you really _were an ass, you know."_

Harry assumed a contrite expression.  "You're absolutely right.  I was a complete . . ."

"Idiot?  Moron?  Imbecile?"

"All of the above.  Let me make it up to you?"

Hermione sniffed.  "I suppose you could try."

Harry broke into one of his ear to ear grins.  (Damn, he was beautiful.)  He reached out to touch her face and then stopped.

"What?  What is it?"  Hermione was puzzled.

He held up his hands somewhat sheepishly.  "Sticky.  Too much cotton candy, I guess."

Not taking her eyes from his, Hermione grabbed his hand.  He could swear the look she gave him was positively naughty.  Slowly and deliberately, she took each of his fingers into her mouth and licked them clean.

Harry's eyes were closed and there was an almost pained expression on his face.  He seemed to be having difficulty breathing.  "Hermione . . ." he groaned.

"Yes?"

He opened his eyes and grinned at her.  "I take back any protest.  Feel free to practice your feminine wiles on me any day." 


	6. What the Heart Wants

It was the happiest day Harry could remember in all of his seventeen years, which was saying a lot considering some of the incredible experiences he had had since learning that he was a wizard.  But he wasn't sure if he would survive another minute of it.

The afternoon at the amusement park had been a rollercoaster ride in more ways than one.  He wasn't sure there were words in the English language to describe all the feelings that had gone through him since 11:01 this morning.  At present, Harry was sitting in a small Italian café with his best friend, Hermione Granger, who also happened to be the most beautiful girl he knew.  She was chatting earnestly away in her usual mile-a-minute delivery, but she might as well have been speaking Gobbledygook as far as he was concerned.  All he could do was look at her.  He reached out and brushed away a lock of hair which had fallen forward, continually amazed that she not only accepted his touch, but welcomed it.  She stopped recounting her experience working in a Muggle department store over the summer ("Mum and Dad want me to learn about both cultures, and I think it's a good idea.") long enough to send him an affectionate smile and press his hand to her cheek.  She turned his hand over, dropping a kiss on his palm before letting go.

Harry shifted in his seat, wishing for the umpteenth time that he were wearing wizard robes instead the usual Muggle attire of jeans and a sweater.  He had been walking around in a near-constant state of arousal ever since that first mind-blowing kiss at the amusement park.  And speaking of kisses, when he saw Crookshanks again he was going to give him one right on his furry little lips.  If that silly cat hadn't made them miss the train he and Hermione would not now be sitting here.  The last few hours had changed his life.

He couldn't believe what a relief it was now that he had finally revealed to Hermione the secret he'd been carrying around, probably ever since that day she burst into his and Ron's train compartment that very first day on the Hogwarts Express, he admitted to himself.  Looking at her now, he couldn't understand how he had managed to keep his hands off her for so long.

She was sitting with her spectacular legs crossed, causing the skirt she was wearing to inch up ever so slightly.  The sweater she wore might have been unremarkable on any other girl, but the way the soft material clung to her breasts was nearly criminal.  The hair she was constantly trying to tame (and he really wished she wouldn't), stood out around her head like a halo in the late afternoon sunlight.  Her eyes, which made him think of cinnamon and rich, dark chocolate, regarded him with amusement.  He was caught.

He grinned and shrugged sheepishly.  "What do you want from me, woman?  I'm only human, after all.  If you insist on being this beautiful you're going to have to accept that from time to time I will be incapable of focusing on the conversation at hand."

Hermione arched a brow.  "You managed just fine up until now."  
  


"Nope.  Merely a clever façade.  We powerful wizards are very skilled at subterfuge, you know."

"Oh, Harry."  She laughed.  "What am I going to do with you?"

"I have a few suggestions."

Hermione returned his grin and decided she would just have to get used to her knees going weak every time he looked at her like that.  It had been this way all day.  Conversation and laughter broken by moments of intense sexual awareness.  They still talked in the comfortable, bantering shorthand they'd developed over years of friendship, but now something hot and electric simmered between them.  She twirled another forkful of pasta and raised it to her lips, catching a bit of the sauce with her tongue.

"You're going to kill me," Harry groaned.

"Harry Potter," she peered at him primly over the napkin she used to dab at her mouth.  "Are you telling me that we can't even eat a bit of spaghetti together without you being overcome by your baser urges?"

"God, _yes.  And stop looking all prissy like that.  Makes me want to shag you up against the wall right here and now."_

Hermione looked shocked.  Harry cursed himself inwardly.  Note to self:  check with brain before allowing mouth to proceed.  Now he'd gone and offended her with his crudeness.

"Is that so?"  Hermione's lips were slightly parted and her voice was just the smallest bit breathless.  "We'll have to discuss that later."

Harry felt the last bit of blood remaining in his head drain away and settle somewhere in the vicinity of his lap.  He was definitely not going to survive.  He was in fact going to spontaneously combust.  Discuss it later indeed.  To regain some semblance of decorum, he pictured Dudley naked, doing jumping jacks.  It worked.  Eventually, he was able to speak again.

Hermione was watching him, smiling.  He took her hand.  "Seriously, 'Mione.  I didn't mean for it to come out quite that way, but there it is.  With anyone else, I'd say things were going too fast, but with you it's like . . ." He didn't know how to put it.  All he knew was that there was no one else in the world he could be this comfortable with after the day of revelations and tears and giddy laughter they had just had.  He should be feeling drained and awkward, at the very least, but somehow he wasn't.  

"I know what you mean.  It's like shorthand, isn't it?"

"Yeah.  I know you better than anyone, give or take Ron.  And you know me like, well . . . no one else, really.  I can talk to you about anything, even things I wouldn't tell Ron.  It's such a _gift having you as a friend.  Being able to just be me instead of always Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived."  He made a wry face.  "I want you to know that – how much that means to me.  It's not just that I crave your body – although I most assuredly do."  His green eyes twinkled at her from behind the round glasses.  "I know that behind that delicious exterior lies one of the most extraordinary minds in the Wizarding world.  Muggle, too, for that matter."_

"Harry."  Hermione was blushing and fiddling with her placemat.

He put his fingers beneath her chin and made her look at him.  "I mean it.  Get used to it, Hermione.  You'll be hearing things like this from me fairly often.  I've been holding them in for too long."

The sun was going down.  They sat in silence while a waiter came by to light the candle that stood in a glass dish in the middle of their table.  The little flame flickered for a moment in the breeze and then held steady.  It threw a soft glow over the table and reflected in Hermione's eyes.  Harry saw that the brightness in them was not entirely due to the candle.

"I owe you an apology, love."  He brushed away the single tear that slid down her face with the backs of his fingers.  "I'm sorry for being such a coward.  I told myself I was being noble and sensible by not jeopardizing our friendship.  I should have trusted you, _us, enough to tell you what was in my heart."_

"And what exactly is that?"  Hermione asked unevenly.  She had gone quite still at the word "love."

"I think you know me well enough that you can look into my eyes and tell.  You know me, 'Mione.  You always have."  There was almost a plea in his voice.  "Look at me."

Hermione did look, and what she saw in those familiar green eyes took her breath away.  She swallowed and drew a shaky breath.  "I . . . I . . . think I'd like to hear the words.  Please."

"I love you, Hermione Granger.  I think I always have."

Hermione closed her eyes and let it wash over her.  _He loved her.  He loved her.  Her mind kept repeating the words over and over again._

"Er hrm."  Harry cleared his throat.  "Um, can I ask if you . . . I mean, that is to say, if you might .  . ." 

Hermione launched herself from her seat and into his lap.  Twining her arms around his neck, she looked directly into his eyes.  "I love you, Harry Potter.  I _know I always have."  She felt his arms tighten around her, and then his lips were on hers and she could think of nothing else._

The sound of another throat being tactfully cleared caused them to break apart.  The waiter, an apologetic smile on his face, stood there with the tab.  "Looks like you two won't be needing any dessert," he said with a wink.  

With what he knew to be a foolish grin plastered all over his face, Harry accepted the check.  "Hermione Granger loves me," he told the waiter.

"You're a lucky man, mate."

"I know."  He placed a few bills on the table, still grinning.  "I know."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(**Author's Note:  Stay tuned for the arrival of the Knight Bus and for another revelation from Harry.  And yes, they will in fact have sex.  Promise. J babygrrl )**


	7. The Knight Bus

**Author's Note: Warning – this is a long one.  It took me a while to write but I'm happy with the way it came out, so bear with me.  Thanks to my reviewers:  MyLegoglas99, Michiko, Autumn Night, sew2100, Hyperwhich, ChicGeek, FallenAngel42, skoN, gohanSJ3, LittleLily, Blue eyes, Ronin, SycoCallie, lisbeth-1703, maddy, GothicTemptress, thefly, Individualists, wicked-women, SexsiPrincess, zodyaz, jazzyjellybean, Mandy, Faeryspryte, Princess Relena, Sarah Weaver, Hermione Princess, and Takeda Lee.  Whew!  Hope I didn't leave anyone out.  I need and crave your feedback.  Hope you like this one. – babygrrl**

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"Aren't you a precious widdle boy?  Can I rub your tummy?"

"I _beg your pardon?"_

The witch sitting behind the desk in the storage locker gave a start of surprise, and with a start of his own (and no small amount of relief) Harry realized she had not been speaking to him.  What he had assumed was a lumpy and misshapen orange sweater she had been knitting turned out in fact to be Crookshanks.  Harry closed his mouth, which had fallen open in astonishment.  The normally testy animal lay on his back in the witch's lap, paws splayed in ecstasy as she fed him from a package that read "Merlin's Magical Mousie Treats."  The magical mousies squeaked and wriggled quite realistically as Crookshanks devoured them.

Hermione poked her head around Harry's shoulder.  "What's going on?  Oh.  I see he's won you over, has he?"  She gave the witch attendant a knowing smile.  When they'd left earlier, the witch, who was wearing a glowing name tag that read "My name is Hilda.  Ask me about our monthly discount rate!" had been extremely reluctant to take charge of the cat.  Harry didn't quite get how the love fest had come about, as Crookshanks was not exactly the Mr. Personality of the feline world.  However, he recalled all the ways in which he had benefited from Crookshanks' abortive escape attempt and vowed to buy the contrary little beast a case of Magical Mousies when they got back to Hogwarts.

Hilda went off to fetch their things.  She bid Crookshanks a somewhat teary farewell (Harry refrained from rolling his eyes), and a short while later, he and Hermione found themselves outside the train station.  It was evening now, and although it had been a relatively warm day, it was cooling fast.  Hermione shivered slightly, and Harry, trying valiantly not to think about what the cold did to her breasts, put an arm around her.  "Okay, love?"

Hermione turned slightly and nuzzled his neck.  "Mmmm, how come you're always so warm?"

"Warm?  If you keep doing that I might start sizzling like a bloody side of bacon."  He jumped a little as her hands, which were freezing, found their way up under his sweater and played lightly against his stomach.  He tensed, reflexively and he heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Why Mr. Potter, I do believe someone has been watching his Abs of Steel video."

"Actually," Harry grinned, "it was Dudley's.  They got another letter from the school nurse at Smeltings.  It seems they don't stock uniforms in size 'Oh my God it's moving towards us' so Aunt Petunia is cracking down again.  Diet, exercise, the whole deal."

Hermione stifled a snort.  "Well, whatever it was, I am impressed with the results.  In fact, I am really looking forward to a more thorough . . . examination."  Her hand slid slightly lower and now it was Harry's turn to inhale sharply.

"_Hermione!"  Harry sounded outraged, but his eyes went dark.  Firmly, he removed her hands from his clothes.  "There are __people around."_

"It didn't exactly bother you before," Hermione pointed out.  "At the amusement park, the bus stop, outside that department store – I think we gave that window dresser a bit of a shock, and oh yes, let's not forget the restaurant . . ."  She was ticking the locations off on her fingers like some kind of grocery list and her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"That was different.  I have a very great deal of self control, you know.  I'd have to, wouldn't I?  To live with the Dursleys all this time and not turn the lot of them into great, fat toads?  But I think you should know that I am dangerously near the breaking point."

"What, you don't like that?"

"Are you mad?  I _love that.  I love it so much that I could compose several lengthy and very horrible sonnets extolling the virtues of your little hand doing precisely that.  However."  He pushed a hand through his unruly dark hair and took a deep breath.  "I think we both know that I really, really want – no, make that __need – to make love with you.  And by God, I will find a way to make that happen when we get back to Hogwarts.  Either that or the top of my head will burst into flames."_

"Harry."  Hermione fought down a wave of what could only be termed sheer female smugness.  "I want to tell you something."

"Oh, lord.  You aren't changing your mind are you?  Because if you're thinking of doing that, I must warn you that I can be very persuasive.  Also, I am not above begging and being really annoying."

"Harry!"  Hermione shoved at him playfully.  "Of course, I'm not changing my mind.  I think I might be close to bursting into flames myself.  No, what I wanted to tell you was that I haven't . . . I mean I've never . . . _you know.  Not even with Ron.  I couldn't.  I just kept seeing your face."_

Harry was staring at her.

"Well.  Say something, will you?"  Hermione smiled nervously.

"I think I'd better hail the Knight Bus right now.  We have to get back to Hogwarts and then I have to go look up banishing spells to use on my roommates.  And on your clothes.  In that order.  Nothing permanent, you understand, just long enough for me to see if I can make you burst into flames.  Several times."  Harry felt around in his pockets for his wand.  "You'd better stand back," he added, recalling the last time he had inadvertently hailed the bus and it had almost run him down.

Hermione obediently took a few steps back.  Harry stepped to the curb and stuck out his wand.

At first, nothing happened.  He was about to try it again when, BANG!  The Knight Bus abruptly appeared, racing towards them.  As it did, Harry noticed that two parked cars and a fire hydrant were obliged to leap out of its way.  It appeared that Ernie, the driver, had not improved his navigational skills over the last few years.  The bus gave no sign of slowing as it approached, and Harry grabbed Hermione by the arm, preparing to haul her to safety when suddenly the bus screeched to a halt directly in front of them.

"Neville, me old crumb!  Fancy seeing you 'ere.  Oi, Ern," the conductor, a man called Stan, Harry recalled, yelled over to the driver.  He was thin and pimply-faced, with large, protruding ears.  "You'll never guess 'oo it is!  It's Neville."  Beaming, he descended from the bus and began loading their trunks onto it.

"Neville?"  Hermione was looking at Harry, her eyebrows raised.

"Long story.  I'll tell you later."

"You're a slippery one, then, ain't you, Neville?"  Stan elbowed Harry in the ribs and winked conspiratorially.  "Not lettin' on 'ow you was actually 'Arry Potter and all.  But then I guess you was travelin' incognito, huh?  Undercover, like?"  Stan looked at Harry hopefully.

It seemed to Harry that the man wanted him to say he'd been on some sort of secret mission or something exotic like that.  The truth, which was that Harry had accidentally hailed the Knight Bus after unintentionally inflating Uncle Vernon's beastly sister Marge like the Goodyear Blimp and running away from home, did not make nearly as good gossip.  He cleared his throat.  "Yes, well, I'm afraid I can't say too much about that, Stan."  He paused dramatically and lowered his voice to a whisper.  "The Ministry, you know."

"Ohhhh.  Right."  Stan nodded knowingly.  "I completely understand.  Not to worry, Neville.  Me and Ern 'ere knows 'ow to keep a secret."

Hermione, who had watched this little exchange with growing interest and amusement, now let out a sort of strangled cough.  Stan blinked, noticing her for the first time.  "And 'oo's the bird?"

Hermione opened her mouth indignantly to reply, but Harry cut her off.  "Miss Granger and I are traveling together.  Due to circumstances beyond our control, we missed the Hogwarts Express this morning, so you see we are in a bit of a bind."  He gave Stan bland smile.

"Well you 'appen to be in luck, mate.  We're just about full up, but we've got one vacant bed left.  Cost you extra, though, I'm afraid."

"Extra?"  Harry was confused.  The triple-decker Knight Bus was unusual in that rather than seats, it had beds.  As far as Harry remembered, they had all looked the same, though.  "Why should it cost extra?"

"New feature we added last year.  The 'Oneymoon Suite."  Stan had led them up the narrow wooden staircase to the third deck.  Harry could see that every bed was indeed occupied.  When they reached the rear end of the deck, however, they came to section that was curtained off from the rest of the bus with thick purple velvet drapes, which were embroidered all over with little gold crescent moons.  Inside, Harry could see what appeared to be a waterbed, covered with red satin sheets and  fuzzy pink, heart-shaped pillows.  All that was missing was a mirror on the ceiling and some very cheesy "porn music" as Ron would call it.  Harry's heart sank as he thought of what Hermione's reaction would be to this tackiness.

"Thank you very much," Hermione was saying as she handed Stan the outrageous 30 sickles he demanded ("Includes Privacy Charm as well.  Good bargain, that.").  "I'm sure we'll be very comfortable."  Harry didn't know how she managed to make a word as ordinary as 'comfortable' sound suggestive – maybe it was the wink she threw him – but suddenly he wasn't bothered at all by the bordello-like décor.  In fact, he found himself wishing there _was a mirror on the ceiling.  Maybe a hot tub._

In a few minutes, Hermione had neatly levitated all their stuff into the overhead storage bins.  Harry lay back on the bed, his hands behind his head, enjoying the view as she worked.

"Close your eyes for a second, Harry.  I want to change my clothes."

"Nope."  Harry grinned.  "I'm not going to miss a second of this."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Fine then.  I was going to surprise you, but . . ." She pointed her wand and herself and muttered, "_Vestimentum permutatio!"  _

Harry goggled.  The sweater and skirt she had been wearing vanished, and in their place was . . . Good God.  Hermione stood before him in a wispy creation of sheer champagne colored silk.  It was – barely – supported by two tiny lace straps.  Creamy lace trimmed the neckline which plunged nearly to her navel and also ran along the hemline, which just skimmed the tops of her thighs.  Thighs, he noted, which appeared to be encased in matching sheer stockings and a garter belt.

"What do you think?"

"Think?"  Harry croaked.  "God, Hermione, there isn't a drop of blood left in me above waist level.  I'm surprised I can still _breathe.  Look at me over here!"_

And Hermione saw that he undeniably did like her outfit.  The thick Muggle jeans did very little to hide the fact that Harry liked her outfit a _lot.  She thought of some of the things she had heard Parvati and Lavender whispering about in the library when they thought she wasn't listening.  It looked as if they had been telling the truth.  The little bimbos.  Unconsciously, she pursed her lips in disapproval._

"Eep!"  She found herself flung backward onto the bed, pinned there by Harry's very strong, very male and very aroused body.  Instinctively, she arched her hips to meet him and saw his eyes go nearly black.

"I warned you before about looking prissy like that."  His lips trailed along her neck, making her shiver.  "If you're going to do that while wearing things like that, you're going to have to pay the consequences."  He bit her earlobe.  "That is some very pretty lingerie, Hermione.  Now, if you want to keep it, I suggest you take it off.  Because in about two seconds I'm going to rip it off you."  He shifted slightly to allow her to sit up.  She could feel the tension as it ran along the muscles in his arms.

She started to reach for the fastenings on the garter belt, but he reached out to stop her.  "Uh-uh.  That stays on."

Hermione swiftly slid the silky garment over her head and let it fall to the floor by the side of the bed.  "Now you," she said, laying back.

Harry was looking at her as if he were burning her image into his brain.  She could actually _feel his gaze as it traveled over her breasts and down her stomach, to the place where she ached for him.  He whipped off his sweater and T-shirt.  __Oh my.  Abs of steel, indeed. Next went his jeans and boxers (that answers that question, thought Hermione) and then . . . "Oh, wow."  Hermione didn't realize she had spoken aloud.  "Can I – can I touch you?"  Being a girl, and having Lavender and Parvati as roommates, Hermione had read her share of trashy romance novels.  She had always thought that the word magnificent was a bit of overkill, but seeing the physical evidence of Harry's desire for her, there was simply no other word for it.  And the girls had definitely been conservative in their estimates.  She reached to take him in her hand._

"Not yet, love."  Harry was breathing as if he'd just run a marathon.  "Don't, or this will be over before we've even started."

"What do I – I mean, I'm not sure what to do here."  Harry knew how much that admission meant, coming from Hermione, who generally knew everything.

"It's all right, 'Mione.  Trust me."

Harry gazed down at Hermione's lush form for a moment longer, torn between the desire to touch and to keep looking.  He didn't think he'd ever get enough of seeing her like this.  He took a moment to fervently bless whoever it was that had invented garter belts, and then, he lowered himself onto her body.  He felt her spread her legs to make a place for him and instinctively, he pressed his arousal against her, enjoying the sweet torment of that friction.  Go slow, go slow, the thought repeated like a mantra in his head.  This is her first time.  Make it good.

He pressed his mouth to hers and felt a shudder rip through him as her tongue snaked out to meet his.  He could have happily stayed there for hours, but he had a lot of territory to cover.  Suppressing a smug grin at her mew of protest when he lifted his head, he began trailing his lips down her neck, while one hand came up to cup her breast.  His mouth followed.  Only when she was gasping and making incoherent little sounds did he resume his downward journey.  Every once in a while, she made an effort to reach for him, but he wouldn't allow it.  Powerful wizard he might be, but he was also only a man.  There would be time for that next time.

He pressed a series of kisses over the soft skin of her belly and Harry felt Hermione's slight hesitation when he reached her navel.  "It's all right, love," he said, and continued his work.

The romance novels were right, Hermione thought.  It might actually be possible to die of pleasure.  The frustration she felt at not being able to touch Harry – every time she tried, her hands were firmly pinned to the bed on either side of her by his large ones – was far outweighed by the indescribable sensations she was experiencing. His skillful fingers, lips and tongue were driving her out of her mind.  She felt her breath coming faster and faster and thought her heart might be about to burst.  Little pinwheels of light were spinning inside her eyelids.  Once again, Harry pinned her arms to the bed, his hands like bands of iron, and helplessly, Hermione shattered.

Harry lay with his head pillowed on Hermione's thigh and tried to catch his breath.  The sound, the _feel, of her as she went over the edge had nearly caused him to follow.  Once again he called upon the image of a naked Dudley doing jumping jacks in order to regain his control (finally something to thank that flabby git for).  It was disgusting but effective.  No sooner had he pulled himself back from the brink then he felt Hermione's hands threading themselves in his hair.  They grasped firmly and yanked him upwards._

Again he found himself cradled between her legs, looking down into her impossibly beautiful eyes.

"Now, Harry.  _Please."_

He hesitated, knowing that this was the point of no return.  This was the end of their friendship as they had known it.  The last few hours had changed everything but this . . . There was no going back after this.  "Hermione, are you su – "

Hermione cut off his question with a thorough kiss.  She grabbed another handful of his hair.  "Potter," she said, somewhat breathlessly, "don't make me hurt you."  She angled her hips upward, causing him to slide forward.  "_Now, love.  Now."_

That was all Harry needed.  Putting his weight on his elbows and resting his forehead against hers, Harry closed his eyes and thrust home.  He heard her gasp softly and willed himself to be still as she adjusted to him.  But then, oh, _wow, that was her moving against him.  She wanted him, possibly as much as he wanted her, but he doubted it.  The hot, velvety feel of her and the knowledge that she was not just willing but eager nearly ended him again.  Naked jumping jacks Dudley was not doing the trick._

"Don't hold back, love.  Come to me now."

The sound of those whispered words banished the last of his willpower.  Over and over, he drove into her.  He heard her whimpering, felt her nails clawing him, urging him on.  She was close, he knew it.  Just a little more and then . . . Burying his face against her neck, he thrust hard one last time.  He felt her explode around him, and this time, he went with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Vestimentum permutatio, eh?"  The two of them lay sprawled in a tangle of limbs and ugly satin sheets.  Hermione's head lay on his chest and Harry's arms were curled protectively around her.  He thought that if they stayed that way forever, it would be just about right.

"Did you like that, then?  I practiced."

Harry snorted.  "As if you didn't know how much I liked it.  I almost . . ." He paused, his green eyes narrowing.  "What do you mean, practiced?"  He pictured Hermione prancing around for Viktor Krum in tiny scraps of lace and silk.

Hermione hit him in the shoulder.  "Alone, silly.  Not that it is any of your business.  It so happens the only person I could ever imagine doing that little trick for was you.  And you can take that ridiculous grin off your face now."

"Actually, I don't think I can."  Harry tightened his arms around her.  "It seems to be a permanent side effect.  I'll just have to bear it somehow."

They lay in silence for a few minutes, feeling the lurch of the bus as Ernie terrorized more inanimate objects.  A thought – the first one since Hermione little quick-change demonstration – suddenly occurred to him.  Now that the bloodflow was restored to his brain, Harry was able to recall a few things.  Things he hadn't thought of at all earlier.

"Erm, Hermione?"  He paused uncomfortably.  "We weren't exactly, um, _careful just now, were we?  I should have been better prepared."_

Hermione looked amused.  "That's just dawned on you, has it?"

"I – I'm really sorry, I . . ."

"Shhhhh, it's okay, Harry.  Madame Pomfrey taught all the girls how to do Prophylactic Charms in 5th year.  We're fine."

Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.  "Oh.  Well.  I guess that's okay, then."  Another thought occurred to him, and he rolled them over so he was on top of her.  "So, if we were so inclined to engage in another round of . . ."

"Sweaty, animalistic sex?"

"Quite.  If we felt the urge, so to speak . . ."

"We're all set."

"Right, then," said Harry, busily nibbling at the hollow of her neck.

Hermione let out a loud, irritable screech.  Startled Harry jerked back, only to realize that the screech had not come from Hermione.  He glanced toward the window, where the sound seemed to have originated, and saw that a rather annoyed Hedwig was hovering there.  He reached over to open the latch and let her in.

There were two messages attached to her leg.  The first was from Ron, addressed to both of them, which read, "Dear Harry and Hermione:  Don't worry about it.  Fleur and I will manage without you somehow.  I'll tell McGonagall you were delayed.  Oh yeah, Fleur says to say hi.  Best, Ron.  P.S.  If this turns out the way I think it will for you guys, all I have to say is, about bloody time.  Have fun, R."  Hermione blushed as she finished reading the note.  Harry just threw back his head and laughed.

The second message was for Harry from the Ministry of Magic.  He hesitated before opening it, feeling Hermione's eyes on him.  "Go on, what it is it, Harry?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Harry unrolled the parchment and read:  "Dear Mr. Potter:  The Ministry is pleased to announce that you have been found eligible for our accelerated Auror Training Program which will start October 31st of this year.  While it is unorthodox for someone of your age to be admitted to the Program, there is precedent for it.  We have already contacted Albus Dumbledore, who has assured us that your academic standing is sound.  Taking this into account, as well as the letters of recommendation we have received from Raymond Moody, Arthur Weasley, and Sirius Black, we see nothing to prohibit your acceptance, provided you pass the proficiency test at the end of September.  Professor Dumbledore has indicated that you will be given academic credit for your Auror Training and that your participation in this program will not prevent you from graduating with the other members of your class.  You have until September 15th to send us your completed enrollment form.  Regards, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic."

Hermione, who had been reading over his shoulder, looked up at him, white-faced.  "And just when were you going to tell me about this, Harry?  That's fourteen days you have to reply."

"Hermione."  Harry gripped her shoulders.  "Don't turn away from me.  Look at me!  Hermione, I wasn't trying to hide it from you.  I never really thought there was a chance I'd get in.  And I certainly never thought we'd be together like this.  You have to believe me."

"If the letter of acceptance is arriving now, you must have applied before the end of last term.  It's odd how it never came up in conversation, seeing as you weren't trying to hide it from me."  Hermione was bitter.  "And if you had a recommendation from Arthur Weasley then Ron must have known about this, too."

Harry looked uncomfortable.  "Well, actually . . . Ron did know.  He, um, applied as well."

"WHAT?"  Hermione now looked ready to spit bullets.  "The two of you . . . and you didn't even . . . of all the bloody-minded chauvinistic . . ." She was choking with rage.  

Her wand lay on the table next to the bed and Harry discreetly moved it out of reach, in case she was thinking of hexing him.  He hadn't seen Hermione this angry since Fred and George Weasley had rubbed Zonko's Enchanted Enlarging Cream all over her chair in 5th year, causing her rear end to swell up like a hot air balloon.

He knew he was taking a chance, but he grabbed her hands and was relieved when she did not pull away.  He could feel her practically vibrating with fury.  He waited until she raised her eyes to his.

"All right.  Talk."

"Hermione, do you believe that I love you?"

Her shoulder twitched impatiently.

"Well, do you?"

"Yes, I do.  You fatheaded jerk."

"Okay then.  You have to believe me when I tell you now that whatever I did or did not do, I did it to protect you."

Hermione didn't bother to reply to this, but contented herself with a scornful look.

"Hermione, love, I'm telling you the truth.  I told you I was afraid to tell you my feelings.  That was true.  But I wasn't only afraid of ruining our friendship.  I was afraid of putting you in danger.  No, hear me out.  You know what these last few years have been like.  The Dark Lord has risen again.  We've been successful so far in small skirmishes against his Deatheaters, but I can _feel that something big is coming.  And I think I can safely say that yours truly will likely be in the thick of it."_

"But Harry, I can help you!  Haven't I always?"

"You don't get it, do you?  _Voldemort took my parents from me.  He's taken the people who mattered the most to me before.  When he killed Cedric . . ."  Harry's voice broke slightly.  "When he killed Cedric, he took a piece of me, too.  We weren't even that close.  But it hurt.  Hurts.  Still."  Hermione winced, and he realized that he was gripping her hands so tightly that his knuckles had whitened.  He relaxed his hold but did not let go.  "He knows, don't you see?  Now he knows how to get at me.  Not by attacking me directly, but by harming those around me.  Those I love."_

Hermione felt the familiar pain, just beneath her breastbone.  The one she felt when she knew that no matter how many books she read or how many ideas she or Ron came up with, it was Harry who would have to face the demons alone.  Alone the way he had always been.  She wanted so badly to spare him that.  Not just the danger, although she would gladly have given anything to be able to protect him, but the _loneliness.  She could see it in his eyes now, and it made her ache._

"I applied for early acceptance into the Auror program because I refuse to be an easy target.  Voldemort is getting stronger.  Everyone knows it.  The Deatheaters are being called.  He will come for me, and soon."

Hermione shivered and opened her mouth to tell him that it wasn't true, that the disappearances of the Dark Lord's old cohorts were probably a coincidence.  But she wouldn't lie to him any more than he would to her.  She looked into Harry's eyes and what she saw there made her shiver again, but not with cold.

"I intend to be ready for him, Hermione.  Let him come."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again, they lay entwined, Hermione's head resting atop Harry's chest, his arms curled protectively around her.  Sleepless, she listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek and felt his slow, even breathing stir her hair.  She lay there in the dark as the Knight Bus raced toward Hogwarts and made plans to send an owl of her own come morning.


	8. Revelations

**Disclaimer:  You know I don't own any of these characters.  I just play in J.K. Rowling's world.  No money is being made from this story.  Strictly an homage.**

**Author's Note:  This is another looong (well, for me anyway) chapter.  It gets quite smutty towards the end, so hence the NC-17 upgrade.  Nappa and Max Lonewolf, this one is for you, guys.  Hope you like. -- babygrrl**

Two things struck Harry immediately.  The first was a shaft of sunlight which caused him to squinch his eyes shut and start groping about for his glasses.  The second was that Hermione was no longer lying next to him.  This alarmed him until he remembered that they were still on a moving bus, which sort of limited the number places she could have got to.  He was still aboard the Knight Bus, in the improbably named Honeymoon Suite.  As he gazed blurrily around him, he wondered what sort of circumstances might lead a couple to have to celebrate their honeymoon aboard the rattling, emergency transport.  He decided he'd rather not know.

Other facts gradually penetrated his fuddled consciousness – he never had been a morning person.  One was that purple faux-fur (at least he _hoped it was faux) leopard skin blankets must never, never be paired with shiny red satin sheets.  Or anything else for that matter.  Another was that he was clasping something lacy that turned out to be a garter belt in his left hand.  A grin spread over his face as he recalled some of the more memorable parts of the previous evening.  Hermione Granger, staunch friend, house-elf activist, avid bookworm and terrifying Prefect was also, to his great delight, an insatiable sex goddess.  He lay back against the fuzzy pink heart pillows, folding his hands behind his head, and wondered if there was anything Hermione __didn't do well.  It was going to be fun finding out.  _

"Good morning, Sleepyhead!"  Hermione bounced through the curtains.  She was already dressed and had her hair pulled back into a pony tail.

Harry, distracted by the bounce, missed part of what she was saying.  ". . . talking to Stan.  We should be arriving in about 30 minutes.  C'mon.  Up with you."  She made a brisk shooing motion.  They were nearing Hogwarts and now Hermione was all business.

Unable to resist, Harry reached out and pulled her down on top of him.  Hermione gave a muffled shriek as she landed face-first in the fuzzy pillows and then struggled to a sitting position, giggling as she batted at his hands. "Behave yourself.  We're nearly to school and you're not even dressed."

Harry looked down at himself.  "Very true.  And since I'm _not dressed, how about if we . . ."_

Hermione scrambled off the bed and out of reach.  "Don't even think about it, Potter."

"Pleeease?"  Harry slid across the bed towards her.  Catching one of her hands in his, he brought it to his mouth and began planting tiny kisses along the knuckles.  "I'll be very fast.  Promise.  You won't feel a thing."

"Tempting, but no."  Hermione quirked an eyebrow.  "Get dressed.  Now."

Harry, having heard the slightly breathy catch in her voice that let him know she was not unaffected by his attentions, gave in and started rummaging in his trunk for some clothes and his robes.  As he dressed, Hermione busied herself with organizing their things and giving Crookshanks and Hedwig fresh bowls of water.  He smiled, watching her.  He loved it that she was always so . . . thorough.  

Harry was calculating the odds of a favorable response if he were to throw her down on the bed and initiate a tickle fight when suddenly his eye caught on two scraps of parchment lying on the nightstand.  They still hadn't discussed the Auror Training Program and whether or not he was going to enter.  He pocketed the notice, along with Ron's note.  Hopefully they'd be able to sort it out once they reached school.  He was positive it was the right thing to do.  Honestly, what was he supposed to do, hang about waiting for Voldemort and company to attack and hope that no one else got caught in the crossfire?  Hermione had picked up his crumpled shirt from last night and was folding it.  As if feeling his eyes on her, she looked up and grinning, stuck out her tongue.  He felt his heart contract.  No, there was no doubt.  It was definitely the right thing to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hogwarts School!  Last stop!"  The Knight Bus screeched to a halt.

Harry saw that he and Hermione were indeed the last passengers left.  He shook hands with a bleary-eyed Ernie and Stan, who assisted them in unloading their luggage.  Then he and Hermione were alone on the green in front of the great castle, watching as the Knight Bus hurtled off and disappeared with a BANG! 

"Hallo, you two!"

From a distance, they could see a red haired figure with a familiar long-legged stride crossing the lawn towards them.  Harry and Hermione grinned.  Ron.  And following him was his stunning, if somewhat mercurial girlfriend, Fleur.  When he reached them, Ron and Harry clapped each other on the back and engaged in a minor shoving match which meant they were pleased to see each other.  Hermione and Fleur exchanged amused looks.  "Hey, smart stuff."  Ron gave Hermione's pony tail a tug before enveloping her in a bear hug.  Another side benefit of their failed dating attempt, Hermione thought.  It got rid of that silly awkwardness Ron had had towards her whenever they came into physical contact.

The boys resumed pummeling each other, so Hermione turned to Fleur.  "Are you all settled in?"  The Beauxbatons student was going to spend her final year abroad, here at Hogwarts, much to Ron's delight.

"Oh yes, the other girls have been very helpful.  I think I will like it in Gryffindor tower, even if the décor is somewhat . . . archaic."  After two summers spent at the Burrow with the Weasley's, Fleur's English was excellent.  Hermione thought for sure the stylish girl would be put off by the cheery, cluttered chaos of the Burrow, but evidently she had raved over the adorable "shabby chic" furnishings, winning Mrs. Weasley's heart in the process.  Whenever she and Ron had a spat, his mother was firmly on Fleur's side.

A breeze lifted the veela girl's platinum blond locks, making them stream out behind her like shining ribbons.  Hermione sighed enviously.

"I love your hair.  I wish there was something I could do with mine."

"Oh but you _must let me show you my new straightening potion.  My mother just sent it to me.  She got it in Paris!"_

"Don't you dare."  Harry had overhead this last bit of conversation, coming up behind Hermione and slipping an arm around her waist.  "You leave your hair alone," he told her.  "I'm going to take off.   I see the troops are on their way."  He indicated the small group of Gryffindor girls who were heading towards them.  "You'll be alright, won't you?"  He chucked her under the chin and dropped a kiss on her forehead.  "C'mon, Ron – give me a hand with these, will you?" After a wide-eyed look, Ron turned and followed. 

Hermione was left facing an inquisitive looking Fleur.  Lavender, Parvati and Ginny were also there, wearing identical looks of glee.  The girls briskly levitated her things in the direction of the dormitory and before she could say anything, they had grabbed her by the hands and hauled her off.

When they reached the dorm, Fleur waved off her protestations of hunger (she hadn't had any breakfast).  Lavender and Parvati disappeared and reappeared in record time bearing trays of scones, clotted cream and strawberries from the kitchen as well as steaming mugs of tea.  When everyone had been comfortably established with food and drink, they pounced.

"OK," said Ginny.  "Tell."

"I don't know what you . . ."

"Ah-ah-ah, we saw that back there.  Something happened with Harry, didn't it?"  Lavender leaned forward eagerly.

"I don't suppose you'd consider minding your own business?"  Hermione pleaded.

"Don't be daft."  This was from Parvati.  "We're your friends.  We share in your joy."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, we're nosy.  But we _are your friends.  Have pity."  Fleur held out a freshly baked scone._

"Plus if you don't tell, we'll play everyone those tapes from last year when you drank 15 butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks and sang karaoke."  Ginny grinned evilly.

"You wouldn't!"

"Yeah, we would. _And we'll tell everyone about how after that you ended up snogging Colin Creevey in the bathroom," Parvati chimed in. _

"What?!  I never . . ."

"Well, no," admitted Lavender.  "But it would make a great story." 

Hermione's shoulders slumped in defeat.  "Okay, but I'm not giving any lurid details."

"A-_ha!"  Lavender squealed.  "That means there are lurid details.  I knew it.  You are __so going to tell us everything."  Grabbing a strawberry, she swirled it in some clotted cream and popped it into her mouth.  This was going to be good._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the Great Hall, Harry set about demolishing a plate piled precariously high with fluffy, golden scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, fried tomatoes, and toast.  He and Ron had headed straight there after depositing his things in his room.  For some reason, he seemed to have an enormous appetite this morning.  He grinned and speared another slice of ham.  As he did so, he noticed Ron looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"What?"

"You tell me."

"I'm hungry.  I'm a growing boy."

"Right."

"Breakfast _is the most important meal of the day, you know."_

"Uh-huh.  Why don't you tell me what that business was back there with Hermione?"

Harry scooped up some egg with a piece of toast and regarded his friend.  He thought about the time he had gotten roaring drunk after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup for the second time in four years.  Ron had told Moaning Myrtle that Harry had drunk himself insensible because he couldn't come to terms with his love for her.  Then he'd deposited an inebriated and tunelessly singing Harry in her stall and whistling, returned to the celebration.  The lovesick Myrtle had followed him about for weeks after that, assuring him that despite the age (and death) difference, they could work it out.  Harry decided some payback was in order.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Talk, Potter."  Ron's eyes were blue slits.

Harry sighed.  "Okay, fine.  Apparently, she's in love with me.  Totally bonkers with it.  Has been for some time, and who could blame her, really?  Look, this is making me really uncomfortable . . ." Harry stood up from the table as though he were ready to leave.

"WHAT?!  She . . . and you just . . ." Ron was beginning to turn a brilliant shade of red that matched the tomatoes.

"Don't get me wrong, she's a really nice girl."  Harry was enjoying this.  "And she took it really well."

Ron had bypassed red and was now well on his way to becoming purple.  "You . . . you . . . _daft prick!  Are you trying to tell me that Hermione finally confesses her feelings for you and then you just stomp all over them?"_

"Well.  I did offer to sign the latest issue of Teen Witch Weekly for her.  You know, the one that has me on the cover as 'Most Shaggable Wizard.'"  Harry held his hands out in front of him.  Ron had rounded the table now and was advancing on him menacingly.  "Look, can't we just . . . urk!"  Ron had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him up off the floor.  "Okay, okay, I'll tell you the truth."

But Ron was now distracted by the sight of something lacy peeking out from one of Harry's pockets.  "What the hell is this?!"  He held up the garter belt.

"Um, it makes me feel pretty?"

"Potter, you bastard.  You slept with her, didn't you?  And kept this as a trophy!"

"Shhhhhh!  Keep your voice down, will you?"  Harry glanced around wildly, but fortunately the Great Hall was pretty much deserted.  Classes weren't due to start until tomorrow and most of the students had gone into Hogsmeade.  "All right sit down . . . SIT!  For God's sake, I was only joking.  Here, I'll tell you the truth."

Ron plopped back down onto the bench but continued to regard Harry with great suspicion.

"I love her."

"Well I _knew that, moron!"  Ron snorted.  "Tell me something I don't know."_

"She loves me."

"Still waiting for the 'something I don't know' bit."

"And . . . now we love each other.  I guess we're, you know, a couple."  Harry's ears were beginning to match the tomatoes as well.

Ron was now grinning like a maniac.  "I _knew it.  I knew it!  That's great, man, really.  I was about to take drastic measures.  Lock you two in a closet or something.  Meant to be, you two."  He pounded Harry on the back enthusiastically.  "Can't wait to tell Fleur!"_

"And you're really okay with this?"  Harry was observing Ron's reaction intently.

Ron knew what Harry was asking.  "Really.  I always knew she was for you.  No, I mean it!"  Harry had raised his eyebrows.  "Even when we were going out.  I guess maybe I thought all that bickering we do was a sign of some sort of pent-up sexual frustration – are you all right, Harry?  Something go down the wrong pipe?"  He thumped his friend on the back and continued.  "But as it turns out, we really just get on each others' nerves.  In a depressingly sibling-like sort of way."  He grinned.  "Fleur, now – _that's sexual frustration.  You won't believe the argument we had on the way up here.  She asked me did I think her sister was pretty and I was foolish enough to say yes."  Ron chuckled ruefully and then grew serious again.  "Hermione was always for you, Harry.  I could see it in the way she looks at you."_

"And how's that?"

"Like she'd walk through fire for you, if you asked.  Like she'd do it even if you didn't ask."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alone at last in her room, Hermione lay sprawled across her bed.  She thought she would much prefer being shut in a pen full of angry blast-ended skrewts to another session with Lavender and company.  That lot could give Rita Skeeter a run for her money.  She smiled.  Not that she was ashamed of being Harry Potter's girlfriend – even just thinking the words gave her a little thrill, but honestly.  The next time a former Death Eater was apprehended, the Ministry could take some notes from these girls on the latest in interrogation techniques.

The thought of Death Eaters sobered her.  Rising, she went to her desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.  She thought carefully for a moment, nibbling the end of her quill and then began to write quickly.  She'd have just enough time to send this before meeting Harry for lunch.  When she had finished, she signed her name with a flourish and set off for the owlery, humming to herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione followed the path that ran along the side of the lake.  There was a pretty spot on the far side, where there was a little grassy hollow that was shaded by a willow (non-Whomping variety).  She and Harry had often sat there, talking and laughing while the giant squid lazily waved its tentacles.  As she approached, she saw that he was laying out a picnic lunch on a blanket.  She slowed, feeling shy all of a sudden, in spite of (or perhaps because of) everything that had passed between them.  Then he turned and saw her.  Her shyness evaporated.  This was Harry.  Even from a distance, she could see the way his eyes lit up behind his glasses.  He waved to her, and she found herself running.

Breathless and smiling, she threw herself down on the blanket.  "And what do we have here?"

"Dobby sends his compliments."  Harry proudly gestured at the feast that lay before them.  Now that Hogwarts' elves were properly salaried and enjoyed decent benefits, sneaking food from the kitchens was no longer a sore spot with Hermione.  "I told them I needed a romantic lunch to share with the woman I love and_ voila!"  There was a crusty loaf of freshly baked bread, sliced pears and apples, a selection of cheeses and smoked salmon.  There were also several bottles of butterbeer which had been treated with a Warming Spell.  "Oh, and listen to this."  Harry waved his wand and muttered something.  Soft strains of music filled the air.  Hermione recognized it as classical guitar – her favorite._

"Oh, Harry."  Hermione was touched that he had gone to so much trouble.  But then, that was just like Harry.  He was watching her eagerly, waiting to hear what she thought.  Unable to speak, she simply reached up and took his face in her hands, drawing his lips to hers.  He smelled like soap and freshly cut grass, and he tasted faintly of butterscotch.  It was a long, sweet kiss, and she reveled in the feel of his strong, warm body against hers.

"Oh."  Harry's green eyes smiled down at her.  "I guess you do like it, then."   He settled her so that she was between his legs, her back against him, looking out towards the water.  They sat like that for a while, savoring the feel of each other and enjoying the view.

Eventually, Hermione spoke.  "This is going to sound silly, but I can't help but feel a little . . . awkward, after last night.  And then going through the third degree with Estrogen Brigade didn't help matters any.  I'm just . . . I mean, I hope I wasn't too . . . Oh, hell."  Hermione hid her face in her hands.  "Forget it; just throw me in the lake before I say anything else stupid."

"Hermione."  Harry was astonished.  "What are you talking about?  Are you having regrets about us making love?"  He turned her around so he could see her face.

"What? NO!  No.  I could never regret that.  It's just . . ." Hermione was blushing now and speaking very rapidly.  "I don't think I was very good."

Harry was speechless.  Surely she had to be kidding.

"Oh, you know!  Don't make me elaborate."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to."

"Well.  I didn't know what to do.  I just sort of lay there like a trout.  I should've had Lavender make me a cheat sheet or something.  I know I'm not your first . . ." She knew she was babbling now, but she couldn't seem to stop.  "Oh God, I _hate feeling ignorant –mmmph!"_

Harry silenced her the best way he knew how.  He kissed her.   At first, he met with resistance, but he was patient and skillful.  He knew the exact moment when she changed; that unbelievably arousing sensation of her melting into him.  Her hands came up and threaded themselves in his hair.  He ran his tongue across her lips, exulting when she opened for him.  She was half-sitting, half-lying across his legs, and the warm, fragrant weight of her nearly made him dizzy.  He felt her tugging his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and with a supreme effort of willpower, tore himself away from her lips.  He waved his wand in the direction of the food and mumbled a short phrase.

"What was that?"  Hermione was leaning back on her elbows, looking up at him.  This had the effect of making her breasts jut forward enticingly.

"Hmmm?  Oh.  Preservation spell.  I think lunch is about to be delayed."  He shifted so that they were lying side by side on the blanket.  He brushed away a lock of her glorious hair, which he had managed to free from the ponytail so that it tumbled softly around her face.  "Hermione, I don't know what you were going on about, but I want you to know that last night was the most amazing experience I've ever had.  That is the absolute truth.  I may have had sex before, but that was the first time I've ever made love."

Hermione caught his hand and held it to her mouth, unable to speak.

"It's always been you, you know," Harry continued, his green eyes looking deeply into hers.  "Probably since that first day you barged in on me and Ron on the train and fixed my glasses."  He grinned.  "I was dead impressed."

Hermione leaned over to nibble on his ear.  "I did not barge."  She pushed him onto his back, rolling on top of him.  "I was merely being friendly.  Wouldn't you say?"  She had left his ear now and was planting kisses along his jaw, while her hands busily worked to free the rest of his shirt from his jeans.  She slid her hand up under his shirt.  "Harry?"

"What?  Oh, yeah.  Whatever you say."

She sat up and gestured imperiously.  "Take those off."

"Ooh, I love it when you order me around like that."  Harry hastily complied and then lay back down.

Hermione had stripped off her sweater and jeans as well, and was now kneeling over him in a lacy black bra and matching panty.  Harry wondered how he would get through the rest of the term now that he knew what she wore beneath those billowing robes.

Hermione now straddled him lightly, pressing a hand to his chest when he started to raise up so he could kiss her.  "Er hrm.  As I was saying.  I hate feeling ignorant, so this morning after the girls left to go to Hogsmeade, I borrowed a couple of, um, research manuals from Lavender."  Harry raised his eyebrows.  "I've done a bit of reading on certain . . . techniques."

"God, I love having a scholar for a girlfriend," Harry breathed.

"Shush.  I'm not done yet.  Now.  In order for me to properly assess the effectiveness of these techniques, I need you to pay close attention and tell me if I'm doing it right.  Also, keep your hands to yourself, until I give you permission to do otherwise.  Got it?"

Beyond speech, all Harry could manage to do was nod.  Satisfied of his obedience, Hermione swiftly removed her remaining garments lowered her mouth to his once more.

She ran her hands over his chest and stomach, glorying in the way his muscles tightened and his breath caught.  She nibbled at his neck, making light circles with her tongue as she worked her way downward.  She paused to see how she was doing.  Harry's breath was coming in pants and his eyes had drifted closed.  Good.

She shifted her attentions to his chest.  It was definitely broader than last year.  She offered a silent prayer of thanks for the new intensive Quidditch regimen.  Her tongue reached out to flick at his nipple and she was rewarded with a heartfelt, "Oh, God!"  She grinned.  This was fun.

Harry took back every snarky comment he had ever made about the gossipy Lavender Brown.  Research manuals indeed.  He could feel Hermione's incredible mouth moving across his abdomen, while her hands slipped lower.  Involuntarily, he arched his hips when she found him, and let out a moan as her hand began doing amazing things to him.  Thank God Hermione loved to read.

Hermione was fascinated.  She hadn't had time the night before to properly examine Harry's body, and it definitely warranted full and thorough observation.  The feel of him sliding against her hand was intoxicating.  When he moaned, she felt a corresponding ache begin between her legs.  Here goes, she thought.  Page 241.  Sliding lower, she pressed a kiss to his inner thigh and heard him gasp.  Deliberately, she ran her tongue along the hard, quivering length of him and then took him into her mouth.

Harry's hands were fisted in the blanket as he fought to maintain control.  The muscles in his arms were corded and a fine mist of perspiration shone on his forehead.  Hermione increased her tempo.  He gritted his teeth and began reciting the statistics for every professional Quidditch team in the last century in his head.  Finally, he thought he could take no more.  "God, Hermione, _please."_

"Please, what?"

"Please let me touch you."

"No."  Hermione was enjoying herself.  She straddled him once again and paused.  "Say it again.  Say please."

"_Please."_

And then, inch by glorious inch, she slid down onto him.  The sight of her, her head thrown back, eyes closed to savor her pleasure, had Harry reciting Quidditch statistics again.  She opened her eyes, her gaze locked with his, and she began to move.  Harry was sure he was going to tear the blanket, he was gripping it so hard.  Suddenly, he felt her convulse around him as she crested the first peak.

"Now, dammit.  I need to touch you."

"Yes!  Touch me, love."

He reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs playing lightly across the nipples.  She moaned and increased her pace.  He slid a finger into her folds to find the tiny bundle of nerves there and was rewarded when she cried out.  Then and only then did he grasp her hips in both his hands, thrusting upwards hard and fast as he drove them both to completion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Much, much later, they sat enjoying the fruit and slabs of bread with cheese and smoked salmon, washing it down with warm, smooth sips of butterbeer.  Harry turned to Hermione who was nestled in the crook of his arm.  "You know," he said.  "Because of you, I am forever doomed to find the sight of squid tentacles erotic.  It'll be tough getting through my Care of Magical Creatures class."

Hermione stared at him for a moment and then dissolved into helpless laughter.

The lingered for a while after they had finished their meal, laughing and talking the way they used to.  Well, Hermione amended with a smile, almost the way the used to.

It was late afternoon when they made their way back to the castle and to their surprise, they found a crowd assembled on the lawn.

"What's going on?"  Harry asked a first year student in Ravenclaw attire.  The student, his eyes wide with fright, only pointed.

Then they saw it.  It must have been 50 feet high.  One wall of the castle was emblazoned with an eerily glowing serpentine likeness.  Hermione gasped.  Harry knew what it was immediately, having seen it before, lighting up the night sky.  It was the Dark Mark.


	9. Serpent's Tale

**A/N:  **A huge thank you to my betas:  **Nappa**** and **akscully******, for their careful consideration and helpful suggestions.  It should be noted that only the first two thirds of this story were available for them to beta.  I wrote the rest later and considered inflicting it on them again, but I didn't have the heart.  This is twice as long as my normal chapters, but we are now into plot.  Don't know how plot snuck into this story, but I blame **Ms. Scribe** for being such a good and prolific writer that I think I ended up being infected.  Also a shout out to the members of the Fanboy Harem.  You know who you are and you should stop complaining about the tight costumes.**

** This chapter contains quotes from the movies "Zoolander" and "Say Anything" – see if you can guess where. **

Severus Snape stood staring at up at the giant skull, the serpent protruding obscenely from its mouth.  His expression betrayed nothing, but a muscle jumped in his cheek.  Students milled about, whispering and pointing; he seemed not to notice them.  "Argus," he said softly to the school caretaker who had come up beside him.  "Please see what you can do about obliterating this piece of filth as quickly as possible."

"Will do, Professor."  Filch stumped away.

"Thank you, Severus.  I was about to make a similar request myself," said Dumbledore.  He and several of the other teachers had come down to investigate the fuss.  In one hand he held a small cellophane bag of lemon drops which he appeared to have been snacking on.  The headmaster cleared his throat before raising his voice and addressing the assembled students.  "You will all please return to your dormitories!  I do not need to remind you that classes begin tomorrow.  Your teachers and I had hoped that by giving you an additional day to settle in, we would find you all well rested and sufficiently prepared to start the term."  His eyes twinkled at a group of third years who hovered a few inches above the ground, apparently having consumed massive quantities of Fizzing Whizbees.  "Let us hope we shall have no cause to regret that decision."

With that, the crowd began to disperse.  Hermione, clutching Harry's hand, began to lead him away.  However, he seemed to be rooted to the spot, unable to take his eyes from the glowing image.  Unconsciously, he reached up to touch his scar.  

"What is it, Harry?  Is your scar hurting you?"  Hermione's insides felt icy.  She knew that Harry's scar hurt whenever Voldemort was present or plotting something especially evil.  It was part of the involuntary bond he shared with the Dark Lord.

"Actually, no," Harry said, puzzled.  "Normally in the presence of dark magic I'd feel something, but there's not even a twinge."

"Losing your touch, Potter?"  

Harry recognized that arrogant, drawling voice and his head whipped around as he located its owner.  Draco Malfoy.  The pale, blonde boy was watching him with an unreadable expression in his odd, silver eyes.

"Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly.  "I thought I smelled something."  He nodded towards the Mark.  "Daddy been teaching you to draw pictures again?  What's the matter, did we run out of finger paint?"

"It is impressive," said Draco, looking up at the leering skull.  "But no, not my handiwork."  He smirked.  "Of course, if it was, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, now would I?"

"Harry, let's go."  Hermione pulled again on his hand.

"That's right, Potter.  The little Mudblood seems eager to spend some quality time with you."  His eyes traveled over the little bits of leaf stuck in Hermione's hair and took in the rumpled state of their clothing.  "Or perhaps that's what you've already been doing?"

Harry didn't bother to go for his wand.  His fist connecting with Malfoy's jaw was somehow much more satisfying than a hex anyway.

Malfoy stumbled backwards and landed in a sitting position, a thin trickle of blood forming at the corner of his mouth.  Harry stood over him, waiting.  _Get up, you son of bitch.  Come on_, Harry silently dared him.  But Malfoy merely sat there, looking relatively unruffled for someone who had just taken a right hook to the face.  He pulled out a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth.  He smiled crookedly.  "Oh dear, I seem to have touched a nerve, haven't I?"

Harry would have lunged for him again, but Hermione's hand on his arm stopped him.  "Leave him, Harry."  She threw Malfoy a contemptuous look.  "Shouldn't you be out dating your cousin or something, Malfoy?  I've heard insanity runs in those pureblood families.  Recessive genes, you know.  Let's go, Harry."  She flicked a glance at the towering skull and then at the boy at her feet.  "The atmosphere here is a bit . . . foul."  Purposefully, she strode off in the direction the other Gryffindors had taken.

This time, although he was still shaking with fury, Harry turned without a word and followed Hermione.  Draco sat and watched them go.  He chuckled humorlessly.  "Insanity?  Wouldn't surprise me in the least."  But they were too far away to hear him.

"Get up, Malfoy."  It was Snape.  Draco wondered how much of that little exchange he had witnessed.  "I want to see you in my office, now."

With surprising grace, Draco got to his feet and started after the Potions Master, who was already walking away.  "I'm just Mr. Popularity today, I suppose."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione and Harry walked the rest of the way back in silence.  Her hand felt cold in his.  Harry wanted to say something reassuring, but he couldn't find the words.  He settled for squeezing her hand gently.  When they reached the portrait hole that was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, Harry stopped and drew her into his arms.  She clung to him until finally he pulled away.  "You go on, 'Mione.  I'll be back in a bit.  I've got something I need to do."

Hermione nodded.  Her whole body felt like it was going numb.  She knew this feeling.  This fear was familiar and yet somehow worse.  _It's starting again, she thought.  _Oh please, please don't let me lose him now.  Not now._  "I'll be fine," she lied.  "I wanted to get a head start on my reading anyway."_

"That's my girl," Harry said.  He gave her a quick but thorough kiss, and then he was gone.

_His girl, _thought Hermione later on, as she sat before the fire in the common room.  _Well, I'll be damned if I let anything happen to him.  _She flipped open the large, dusty book on her lap, scanning the pages until at last she found the entry she was looking for:  _MORSMORDRE._  Grabbing a fresh quill, she dipped it into the inkpot and began making notes.  Later on, she would pay a visit to the restricted section of the library and do some cross-referencing.  "One of the most extraordinary minds in the Wizarding world" Harry had said.  Well, she'd fight with whatever weapons she had.  If someone was going to come after Harry, they'd have to get through her first.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fleur lay huddled in a corner of the bed.  Ron curled his body protectively around her and murmured soothingly.  He had gone to look for her as soon as he heard.  He hadn't bothered to go and see the spectacle for himself.  He shuddered.  He was all too familiar with the Dark Mark and those who conjured it.

He found her, nearly catatonic with fear, crouched in a corner of the room she shared with Lavender and Parvati.  She had been given the bed that was vacated when Hermione became Prefect.  The other girls, as well as his sister Ginny, looked on helplessly as he wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to the bed.

It was Ginny who told him what had happened.  They were returning from Hogsmeade, giggling and laden with purchases of sweets and cosmetic potions.  As they neared the school, they noticed the crowd.  Suddenly, they heard an unearthly keening noise and realized that it was coming from Fleur, whose eyes had gone wide and staring.  They turned to see what she was looking at and saw the Mark.  They managed to get her back to the room, but Fleur became hysterical when someone suggested taking her to the infirmary.  She refused to let them touch her.  She crouched in a corner of the room, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her knees, all the while crying like a wounded beast.

"I was about to go get you," Ginny said when Ron arrived, out of breath.  He had run all the way from the Quidditch pitch.

Now he lay beside Fleur, his arms wrapped around her.  "It's all right," he said quietly, stroking her moonlight-colored hair.  "You're safe.  I'm here."  Tenderly, he tucked the blanket beneath her chin.  "I'll always be here."

The other girls looked away from the couple on the bed.  It didn't seem right, somehow, that they should be listening to this.  They knew these words were for Fleur only.  Lavender jerked her head in the direction of the door.  Ginny and Parvati followed her lead.  

"Ginny."  Ron's voice stopped them.  "Do me a favor."

"Of course," she said.

"Find Harry.  See if he's okay."  Fleur's whimpering had ceased and she was breathing evenly, her eyes closed.  Ron seemed reluctant to let go of her.  "Tell Harry I'll be there soon."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Peppermint humbugs."

Nothing happened.  Harry tried again.  "Um, Licorice Wands."  Nothing.  "Jelly Slugs?"  Still nothing.

Harry racked his brain.  "Er, Ton-Tongue Toffee?"  The stone gargoyle hopped aside, and the wall behind him split in two to reveal a spiral staircase that revolved upward like an escalator. "I'll be damned."  Harry shook his head and stepped onto the stair.  "I've got to remember to tell Fred and George about this one."

When staircase stopped moving, Harry stood before a large oaken door with a knocker in the shape of a griffin.  He rapped once, and the door swung open to admit him.  There, seated in a high-backed chair behind an enormous claw-footed desk was Dumbledore.  He did not seem the least bit surprised.

"Ah, Harry.  Do come in," said Dumbledore, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk.  He held out a small paper sack.  "Chocolate Cockroach?"

Harry eyed the chocolate-coated insects warily.  "Um, no thanks, sir.  I was just coming to ask you about something."

"Yes, yes, Harry.  I was just about to send for you.  I've just been having a talk with Cornelius Fudge, you see.  After giving the matter thorough consideration, we've decided it would be best if you did _not participate in the Auror Training Program."_

"WHAT?!  But, sir . . ." The words of protest were out of his mouth before Harry could catch himself.  "I mean, you helped me to get into the program in the first place!  I just sent in my letter of acceptance!  I would think that especially after what's happened today, with the appearance of the Dark Mark . . ." Harry fell silent.  He was confused and bitterly disappointed.  He ducked his head, to hide the anger he knew must show in his eyes.

"The Dark Mark was a hoax, Harry."  Dumbledore spoke matter-of-factly.

Harry's head shot up.  He searched the ancient Headmaster's face for clues, but could find none.  "I don't understand, sir."

"It was paint.  Ordinary, non-magical Muggle paint.  Cunningly applied, I will admit – must've used a spell to get it up there.  That glow-in-the-dark stuff the Muggles have come up with is most ingenious, don't you think?

Harry's head was spinning.  "But _why_ would someone go to all that trouble for a prank?  And if that's all it was, then why do you not want me to attend the Auror Training?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said seriously.  "I do not think this was a mere act of vandalism.  We have wards placed throughout the Hogwarts grounds.  It would be very difficult indeed for someone to practice Dark magic undetected.  But a simple image charm, using non-magical materials would easily go unnoticed.  No, whoever placed the Dark Mark on that wall was very clever.  I think today's scare was a calculated effort to convince you to leave Hogwart's, as you would most certainly choose to do in order to protect those you care for."

"And you think I should stay."  Harry no longer made any effort to conceal his frustration.  "Perhaps I should paint a big red 'X' on my forehead while I'm waiting for Voldemort to show up."

Unlike almost everyone else Harry knew, Dumbledore did not flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.  "When you first approached me at the end of last term about entering this program, I thought it the best course of action," Dumbledore said calmly.  "Much has happened since then which has caused me to reconsider.  I have also spoken to Sirius Black.  We feel it would be safer for you to stay at Hogwarts."

So his godfather was in on this as well, Harry thought.  Once again, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that he had survived several attempts on his life by Voldemort and his minions, everyone seemed determined to treat him like a child who needed sheltering.  But he was _not a child.  Voldemort had taken his family once.  He thought of Hermione and Ron, and the others at Hogwarts who had befriended him.  He would not let Voldemort harm his family again._

"All right then."  Harry was amazed at how normal his voice sounded.  "If that's all, then I guess I'd better get back to my dorm."  Not waiting for permission, he turned to leave.

"Harry."  Dumbledore was gazing at him shrewdly.  "You must trust me when I tell you that there is more at stake here than you realize.  Do not do anything foolish."

"Yes, sir.  Of course not."

"Good evening, then."

Without a word, Harry stepped through the door and onto the downward spiraling staircase.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny took the stairs two at a time, her long legs easily spanning the distance.  Like her brother Ron, she was tall and thin, and she might have appeared coltish if not for the distinctly feminine curves that softened the lines of her body.  Her red hair flowed out behind her like a fiery banner as she ran down the hall, and every male within a hundred foot radius slowed to watch as she passed.

At the moment, Ginny was too intent on her mission to notice any of this.  She was looking for Harry.  She understood what Ron was asking her when he had sent her to find Harry.  Ron knew, perhaps better than anyone else, what the appearance of the Dark Mark must mean for his friend.  They all knew it.  And she, as well as the rest of Harry's friends, felt the same helpless desire to protect and help him.  She was well over the little-girl crush she had had on him when she first came to Hogwarts – it wasn't that.  Harry was just . . . special.  People wanted to be near him; to follow him, into danger if necessary.

Harry was not in any of the deserted classrooms, nor was he in the Great Hall or the library.  Ginny had found Hermione there, but she had been deeply engrossed in a bunch of old scrolls and books, too distracted to be of any help.  Ginny was about to give up and head back to the dorm when she rounded a corner and ran smack into another student.

"Ow!"  Her head made a sickening crunching sound as it came into contact with the other person's skull.  The force of the impact rocked Ginny back on her heels, and she could do little more than stand there, clutching her forehead.

The owner of the other skull let fly with a string of colorful and descriptive phrases, and though her eyes were closed and her ears were ringing, Ginny realized to her intense displeasure that she had just had a head-on collision with Draco Malfoy.  She listened to him swearing.  In spite of herself, she was impressed by the breadth of his imagination and the use of detailed imagery.  Malfoy either did a lot of reading or he hung out with sailors in his spare time.

"God bloody dabbit," said Draco, apparently running out of invective.  "I dink by dose is broked."  He pulled his hand away from his nose and stared in disbelief at the red staining his fingers.  He glared accusingly at Ginny.  "You broke by dose!" 

 "Oh, don't be such a crybaby, Malfoy."  Ginny's own head was still throbbing painfully.  "Madame Pomfrey can fix you up in second.  You'll be pretty as ever and you can go back to poncing around like the Lord of the Manor."

"I doht  _podse!"_

"What?"

"I doht podse."  At Ginny's blank look, he repeated irritably, "Podse!"  He made little mincing steps to illustrate.

Unable to help herself, Ginny giggled.  It was too much.  The most irritating person in school, who lived to undermine Harry Potter and who constantly made fun of the Weasleys for their shabby financial status, was standing in front of her with a rapidly swelling nose and blood all over the front of his shirt, acting out charades.  

At his outraged expression, Ginny began laughing even harder.  This caused her chest to heave most delightfully – something which Draco may have appreciated under different circumstances.  At the moment, however, he was too busy bleeding.

"Oh, bugger _off_."  It wasn't brilliant, as retorts went, but Draco's jaw still ached where Potter had hit him, and now his nose felt like someone had used it for a game of Exploding Snap.  Wonderful.  Just what he needed after his little heart-to-heart with Snape.  The damned Gryffindors were out to kill him.

"Oh dear. You don't look good at all, Malfoy."  

"Danks," he said, sourly.  Ginny saw that there was a nasty bruise along his jaw, one that she was sure had not been caused by her, and that he was even more pale than usual.  Not that it was any concern of hers.  She didn't know who had given Malfoy the other injury, but she was sure he deserved it.

"You should get to the infirmary."

Ginny started to walk away.  She still needed to find Harry.  She glanced back over her shoulder and to her surprise, saw that Malfoy was not moving.  He was leaning against the wall, taking shallow breaths through his mouth.  He looked as though he had been hit hard by something, and not just her head.  Ginny had gotten her certification in Magical First Aid over the summer.  If she didn't know better, she'd swear that Malfoy was in shock.  She took another step and then stopped.

"Oh, bloody hell," she sighed.  However satisfying it might have been, Ginny couldn't bring herself to just leave him there like that.  _She_ wasn't a Slytherin, after all.  Damn it.  She got out her wand.

"Whad izzit dow?  Hey!  Geddaway frob be!"  Malfoy backed away from her, fumbling for his own wand.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy.  I'm not going to hurt you.  Here."  Ginny pointed her wand at his face.  "_Percuro!"_

Instantly the swelling in Draco's nose began to recede.  The bruises faded and disappeared.  Suspiciously, Draco felt his face and was surprised when he encountered no pain.  "What did you do?"

"Basic first aid healing spell.  You're welcome, Malfoy."

Completely taken off guard and temporarily robbed of speech, Draco watched Ginny as she disappeared off down the corridor.  Although he was no longer in pain, he remained as he was, leaning against the wall.  All in all, it had been a confusing and aggravating day.  He rubbed his jaw, where the bruise had been.  Potter would pay for that one.  Eventually.  Right now, he had other things on his mind.

Snape had not told him anything he didn't already know, but it surprised him how quickly it was becoming public knowledge.  His father's disappearance.  The Ministry investigation.  The Malfoy assets frozen.  They still had the mansion, but for how much longer?  They no longer had the funds to maintain it, and the servants were deserting like rats off a sinking ship.  He saw his father's image, elegant and cruel, in his mind.  "Where did you go, you bastard?"  he whispered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny flew down the corridor.  Her eyes kept scanning for Harry, but her mind was elsewhere.  The episode with Malfoy had been . . . unsettling.  She wasn't sure why, but she almost felt sorry for him.  He seemed very alone.  Lonely, even.  Which was ridiculous, of course.  Malfoy had loads of creepy Slytherins to keep him company, not the least of which were the hulking Crabbe and Goyle.  

But still, she mused.  He'd been so shocked when she healed his nose.  As if no one ever did things like that for him.  Again, something which should come as no surprise, considering that he generally behaved like a spoiled, loathsome, bigoted prat.  Ginny frowned remembering Malfoy's taunts about her family and the way he called Hermione a Mudblood.  Poncy git.

Lost in thought, Ginny failed to notice an equally distracted Harry emerging from a staircase, and was thus treated to her second full-body collision of the day.  Annoyed, Ginny gave a little yelp and said something extremely rude.

"Ginny!"  Harry was shocked.  "Wherever did you hear _that expression?"  He narrowed his eyes.  "Does Ron know you talk like that?"_

"Yes," she said blandly.  "He's giving me lessons.  Obscenity for Beginners.  Now, where have you been?  Ron asked me to come find you and I've been looking for ages.  He's worried about you."  

"I'm fine.  Really.  Why wouldn't I be?"

Ginny gave him a level look.

"Oh.  Right.  Well, I don't think that's anything to worry about."  Harry mustered a smile, despite the fact that he was still seething over Dumbledore's decision.  "Shall we go find Ron, then?"

"Um, he said he would come to you soon," said Ginny, turning slightly pink.  "He's with Fleur."

Harry looked at her sharply.  "Everything all right?"

"Well, not exactly."  Ginny told him what had happened when Fleur had caught sight of the Mark.  "Ron's with her now, and she seems to be . . ." Ginny trailed off.   Without waiting for her to finish, Harry had taken off in the direction of the Gryffindor tower.  "Oh no you don't," she muttered, jogging after him.  Her days as Ron's tag-a-long little sister were over.  Something was up, and she intended to be there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Harry got to the Gryffindor common room, it was deserted except for Hermione.    She was curled up in her favorite chair next to the fireplace, with several large books stacked untidily on the floor next to her.  She was reading an old, rather crumbly looking scroll.  There was a quill tucked behind her ear and a smudge of ink on her chin where she must have rested it atop her hand.  Harry watched her lips moving and saw a faint crease appear between her brows.  He felt his heart squeeze in his chest.  God, he loved her.  For a moment, he forgot about Dumbledore and the Dark Mark and everything else.  He wanted to stay just like this, watching her.

"Hey, brainiac."

"_Harry._"  In two seconds she was across the room and in his arms.  She didn't ask where he had been or what he had been doing. "I missed you."

Harry closed his eyes and breathed her in.  It felt like a hundred years had passed since their picnic by the lake.  It was still slightly unbelievable to him that he was allowed to do this.  He tightened his arms around her and lowered his head to kiss her.

"Ahem."  Ginny, who had just come through the portrait hole, coughed embarrassedly.

"One moment," said Harry, without looking up.  And he touched his lips to Hermione's in a soft, sweet kiss.  It was brief but tender, and Hermione wondered why something so fleeting should cause her knees to buckle. 

"Oh, God.  Get a room, you two."  Ron had emerged from Fleur's room.  "All right there, Harry?"  He gave his friend a meaningful look.

"How's Fleur?"  Harry asked, returning the look.

"She's – as well as can be expected.  It just gave her a bit of a jolt, that's all."

Hermione and Ginny were listening to this exchange with growing interest.  There was more going on here than normal concern for Fleur's health.

Hermione had her arms crossed over her chest and was tapping one foot on the floor as she glanced from Harry to Ron.  "All right, what's going on here, guys?"

"What's what?" asked Ron.

"You two are hiding something."

"She doesn't trust us," said Ron to Harry in an injured tone.

"I _know_ you."

Harry and Ron looked at each other.  "You'd better have a look at this."  Ron held out a copy of the Daily Prophet which he'd been carrying.  The headline read, "_Three New Muggle Disappearances Linked to Recent Death Eater Sightings._"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  "OK," he said, resignedly.  "We'll tell you everything.  But can we go get something to eat, first?"

"Stay right where you are," said Ginny.  "I'll be back in a minute.  And don't you dare start without me."  She glared at her brother and Harry in turn before stepping out through the portrait hole.

The two boys were left alone with Hermione, who now had her eyebrows raised.  "I can't wait to hear this," she said.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, which was beaded with small drops of moisture.  Situated as it was in the dungeons, most of the rooms in the Slytherin dormitory tended to be dank and drippy.  This suited his present mood perfectly.

His return to school this year should have been triumphant.  He had finally been made captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and he was fairly sure that it wasn't because his father had equipped each member of the team with the latest version of Firebolt, the fastest yet, and had completely refurbished the Slytherin locker room.  Well, not entirely, anyway.  The exhaustive practice sessions with the trainer his father got him (a former beater for Irish International Side who had fallen on hard times) had paid off.  Determined to wipe the derisive sneer off Lucius' face, Draco had trained obsessively.  As a result, the formerly weedy boy had gained 20 pounds of muscle, and somewhere along the line, he had gotten taller.  He had cut his silvery blonde hair short and the sun had bleached it nearly white.  He was well aware of the admiring glances he received when he walked into the Great Hall yesterday, and not all of them were from Slytherins.

Seeing him swagger over to the Slytherin table where he proceeded to hold court like a young emperor, no one would have guessed the truth.  That any day now, the world would learn that Lucius Malfoy had been indicted on charges of conspiracy and intent to practice dark magic.  That he had disappeared two weeks before the start of school, a day before the Aurors swooped down on Malfoy Manor with warrants and subpoenas.  That the majority of the Malfoy assets had been frozen until the Ministry could determine whether or not they had been lawfully obtained, and that at the end of the investigation it was quite possible that all Draco Malfoy would have to his name was the immaculately tailored, Italian-made robe on his back. No one guessed this because Draco was a master at hiding his emotions and at saying one thing while he thought another.  Draco smiled bitterly to himself.  Those were basic survival skills, if you were a Malfoy.

The turn of his thoughts reminded him a bit of Ginny Weasley's words to him in the corridor.  _"Basic first aid healing spell.  You're welcome, Malfoy."  Not that he had thanked her.  He touched his healed nose.  It was only right that she'd fixed it, considering she'd broken it to begin with.  Still, he was intrigued.  She'd been about to walk away, as he himself would have done, but instead she had turned back to help him.  She didn't have to.  Humiliating though it might have been, he'd have found his way to Madame Pomfrey and gotten himself fixed up.  She didn't have to, he thought, but she did.  This was puzzling.  It must be a manifestation of the infamous Gryffindor honor -- a weakness, his father was fond of pointing out, that should be exploited at every turn._

Draco thought of his meeting with Professor Snape.  With his connections in the Ministry, of course the teacher would have heard.  He had been half-afraid that Snape would do something uncharacteristic and offer him sympathy.  That would have been intolerable.  Mercifully, Snape had remained his cold and sneering self.  Instead of sympathy, he had made a proposal which was so outlandish Draco had nearly laughed in his face.  When he saw that the Potions Master was serious, he had composed himself and promised to think it over.  

"You don't have to do this," Snape had said, watching him carefully.  "I didn't have to do it either.  But I did."

"I'm not you," Draco had replied with something very like scorn.  As an afterthought, he added, "Sir."

"No," said Snape, refusing to rise to his bait.  "We will agree on what you are not.  But I wonder if you know what it is that you are, young Malfoy.  Here is a chance to find out.  Think about it."

Draco stared at the ceiling, the events of the day swirling in his head, until gradually, his eyes closed.  While he slept, he dreamed of red hair and flashing blue eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Let me see if I have this straight," said Hermione.  "Ron talks to dragons."

"Uh huh."  Ron nodded, taking a huge swig of pumpkin juice and rummaging about in the hamper Ginny had brought up from the kitchens.  The four of them were lounging about Hermione's room, snacking on cold chicken and ham and cheese sandwiches.

"Actual dragons, the big fire-breathing ones."

"Yup."

"Not, say, imaginary purple ones, like his special friend Woober?"

"I was 7 years old and that was a _secret!" Ron said, furiously glaring at Ginny, whose mouth was quivering suspiciously. Ron grabbed a pillow from Hermione's bed and hurled it at his sister, who was now making noises like a strangled kitten._

"And when did you make this little discovery?"

"The summer after 5th year," said Ron.  "It was when Harry and I went to visit Charlie at the dragon reserve in Romania.  You know, right after you and I broke --"

"Erm, yes. Well," Hermione broke in hastily, not looking at Harry.  "I remember there being reports of suspicious Death Eater activity there.  Another prank like the one at the Quidditch World Cup when they sent up the Dark Mark to frighten people."

"There was a bit more to it than that, actually" said Harry.

_They noticed the smell first.  Thick, acrid smoke that stung the nostrils and caught in the throat.  Stumbling from the bunkhouse where they'd been sleeping, Harry and Ron could see great columns of smoke billowing from the north-eastern corner of the camp.  They could hear the shouts of the dragoneers as they rushed to extinguish the blaze._

_"Ron," said Harry.  "Isn't that where the dragon pens are located?"_

_Ron looked at him.  "Grab your wand.  Let's go."_

_As they raced across the large field that separated the living quarters from the dragon pens they noticed an eerie, flickering glow that seemed to bathe everything in a greenish light.  Harry thought at first it might be from the flames, but it was much too bright for that.  And besides, it seemed to be coming from directly over head._

_"Look!"  Ron pointed.  Hovering above the camp was the image of a skull with a serpent emerging from its mouth – the chosen symbol of Voldemort and his followers.  Ron remembered his father saying that the Death Eaters sent it into the sky whenever they had killed, and a cold dread settled in his guts._

"But the Death Eaters didn't kill anyone, did they?" asked Ginny.  "We'd have heard."

"They set fire to the hatchery," said Ron in a flat voice.  "And before they did, they sealed the pens where the dragonets were kept with an unbreakable spell.  No one could get in.  Or out," he added significantly.

Hermione gasped.  "You mean --"

"The babies screamed as they burned," said Ron, dully.  His face showed no emotion, but his fists were clenched so tightly that the whites showed around his knuckles.

_The adult dragons, maddened by the cries of the young ones, had broken free of their pens and were hurling themselves against the high stone walls that enclosed the hatchery.  The dragoneers now found themselves preoccupied with calming the great beasts before they harmed themselves, or, in their fury, their human care-takers.  Harry and Ron stood watching the struggle, wanting desperately to help but not knowing what was needed.  Charlie's red hair was easily visible amongst the darting workers, but it seemed best that they stay out of his way._

_"What now?" Harry asked._

_"I dunno," said Ron.  _

_Heartbreakingly, the cries of the dragonets had stopped, although the fire still burned.  The air was heavy with the grief and rage of the humans and dragons alike, and with the stench of death.  Harry blinked and tried to swallow.  Smoke – or something – seemed to be clogging his throat.  Beside him, Ron had his hands pressed to his temples as though he had a headache.  Perhaps the . . . smoke was bothering him, too.  Harry looked away to give him time to collect himself._

Hermione was white-faced.  For a moment, she looked as though she might speak, but then apparently thought better of it.  Sliding down next to Harry, who was sitting on the rug with his back against the bed, she laid a hand on his arm.  He said nothing, but his hand came up to cover hers.

Ginny, tears standing in her eyes, went to her brother, who sat on the rug opposite Harry.  Sitting beside him, she put both arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder, unsure of whether this gesture was meant to comfort Ron or herself.  At first he stiffened, and it seemed as though he would push Ginny away.  Then, sighing, he gathered her to him in an awkward, one-armed hug.

_Slowly, they made their way back to the cluster of low buildings that comprised the living quarters and mess hall.  With the fire now extinguished, it was obvious that they could be of no help here.  Neither boy spoke as they trudged across the grassy field, where only that morning they had watched, wide-eyed with delight as the dragoneers put their magnificent charges through their paces.  Fitted with riding straps and a kind of harness that rode just above the wing joint, over the blade of the shoulder, a dragon would extend its forepaw in an oddly dignified gesture and allow a rider to mount.  Then the great winged beasts had put on a wildly acrobatic aerial display that had Harry thinking wistfully for the first time ever that perhaps Quidditch was not the most exciting sport in the world.  Now, Harry and Ron could hear the mournful keening coming from the dragon pens.  It carried through the still night air and raised the hairs on the back of their necks._

_The cries faded as they continued walking, and they approached the bunkhouses in silence.  After the noise and frantic activity of the fire, the quiet seemed oppressive.  It hung like a thick blanket over the camp.  Harry twitched his shoulders uneasily.  He had a strange, prickly feeling, as though someone – or something – was watching._

_"Ron," said Harry, his voice sounding abnormally loud in the hushed darkness, "D'you notice anything . . ." He broke off, staring._

_Ron, following closely behind him, did not see him stop and ran into him.  "Oof!  Harry, what the bloody . . ." Then he saw what had halted Harry in his tracks._

_All about the courtyard that surrounded the mess hall and in between the bunkhouses lay bodies.  When Harry and Ron had run off towards the fire, the living quarters had been far from deserted.  While the dragoneers fought the blaze, the mess hall staff and the medi-wizards who staffed the infirmary had remained behind, preparing to treat the casualties.  _

_There had also been a group of visiting students, a delegation from the Junior International Wizarding Federation which was monitoring the status of endangered magical creatures.  Some of the dragons at the reserve fell under this category.  This was the last stop in a 6 week tour for the group, which consisted of students from several different countries, one of whom was . . ._

_"Fleur!"__  Ron had been red-faced and tongue-tied as usual in the presence of the veela girl when she had smilingly greeted them at lunch.  Now, he raced towards the bunkhouse where she had been sleeping, along with the other student delegates._

_Harry used his wand to send up red sparks, which would summon the others from across the way, and he began checking the bodies nearest him for signs of life.  There were none.  He could find no visible wounds or indication that there had been a physical struggle.  He recognized the plump, matronly witch who had dished up his breakfast.  "You're too skinny, dear," she had said, winking as she gave him an extra helping.  She lay lifeless at his feet, her features frozen in an expression of indescribable terror.  _

_Harry turned and was neatly sick into a bush.  Who or what could have done this?  His mind was racing.  Deep down, though, he knew.  Who knew, better than he did what the Death Curse looked like?  Though a part of him knew it to be hopeless, he continued to check each body, praying that he was wrong. _

_After what could have been several moments or several years, Ron emerged from the bunkhouse.  "She's not in there," he reported.  He refrained from saying what he had found in there.  Harry could guess._

_From away across the field, they could see a small crowd of people.  Why did they not just Apparate, Harry wondered.  Not that it would do anyone here any good.  Not now.  As he continued to observe the group's slow progress, he saw why they walked.  They were bringing the wounded.  Evidently the dragons had been subdued, but at a price._

_"Harry."  Ron's whisper was soft, but urgent.  "Over there, by the trees."_

_Harry turned in time to see several dark-cloaked figures disappearing into the forest.  Before he could say anything, Ron was charging, wand drawn, in the direction they had taken.  "After them!"_

_Swearing, Harry tore off after his friend._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

"You did WHAT?!"  Hermione was incredulous.

Ron shrugged.  "We couldn't wait for the others.  They were getting away."

Ginny had released her hold on her brother.  "How many were killed?"  She was beyond tears now.  This couldn't possibly be real.

"Dozens."  He did not look at her.

"They must've had a hell of time doing Memory Charms on everyone to keep this from getting out," Hermione said.  She saw, vividly, in her mind the corpse-strewn camp.  "How could no one have heard of this?"

"The Ministry did not want the public to start panicking," said Harry.  "Most people agreed voluntarily to have their memories wiped.  You can understand why."

"But not you."

"No," said Ron.  "Some things are should not be forgotten."

"A year and a half you two have been carrying this around and you never said."  Hermione shook her head.  "So _this is why you wanted to become Aurors.  You could have told me.  Should have."  She was looking at Harry as she said this._

"I would not risk you."  Harry spoke quietly and his voice made her shiver.  "You have no idea what they did."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_When they regained consciousness, they were sitting, bound with their backs against each other in the center of a flaming ring.  Harry's glasses were missing and he vaguely recalled losing them in a scuffle with the Death Eaters – there was no doubt now of the identity of the dark-cloaked people.  Memory returned in bits and pieces._

_"After them?!" he croaked.  His throat hurt and he wondered how long he had been unconscious.  "After them?  _That_ was your plan of attack?"  Harry could not see Ron's face, but he felt him shrug impatiently._

_"Look, Potter, I didn't see _you_ coming up with any brilliant save-the-day strategies.  I was pressed for time."  _

_"Well, considering that they captured us in about two seconds, I think we can safely say _your_ idea sucked."  Harry squinted at the dark shapes beyond the flames.  He thought he could hear chanting._

_"Bite me, okay?"  Ron had no trouble seeing the Death Eaters who stood just beyond the flickering ring.  The situation did not look at all promising._

_"I am never letting you watch my DVDs again.  Those Muggle action flicks have softened your brain."  Harry flexed his arm experimentally and experienced a sharp, stabbing pain.  Of course, their bindings were magical._

_"Shut it, will you?  I've got a blinding headache.  What the hell is that buzzing sound, anyway?"  Ron shook his head, but the humming only increased._

_"I don't know what you're talking about.  I don't hear any buzzing."_

_"How can you not hear that?  It's like . . ." Ron trailed off as he concentrated on the curiously electric sensation that filled his head and seemed to be focused at the base of his skull.  He didn't know it, but what he was experiencing was something like a short wave radio being adjusted.  The buzzing increased and then sharpened into recognizable patterns.  "Voices.  I'm hearing voices."_

_"Um, Ron?"__  Harry wondered just how hard a knock his friend had taken during the Death Eater fight.  "Didn't you once tell me that hearing voices is not a good thing?"_

_But Ron wasn't listening, at least, not to him.  The voices were chattering excitedly now, although there seemed to be an underlying tone of sadness._

[He hears us.]

[I knew it; I knew he was one.] !triumph!

[Hush, Fanny.  You knew no such thing.  Didn't you say he looked a bit weedy when we first saw him?]

_Ron frowned.  Weedy?_

[He can hear us Tel.  Even the other one can only sense our emotions if we transmit them strongly enough.] image of Charlie

[And would that have saved our young ones?  If we could have Called the human?] !sorrow/grief/despair!

 [Maybe not.  But we must help this one now, if we can.  The Kulshedra comes.]

!agreement! [The other as well.  Have you touched his mind?  Such power in one so young.]  

_"Harry," said Ron.  "I think they're going to try to help us."_

_"Who?__  The imaginary voices?"  Harry continued to struggle against the bonds.  He didn't know why the Death Eaters hadn't just killed them outright, but he was sure it wasn't because they were having a sudden change of heart about the whole evil lifestyle choice.  "C'mon Ron, see if you can move your . . ."_

_The wall of fire encircling them suddenly flared and burned green.  With a start, Harry felt something warm nestled against his leg.  Ron jerked in surprise as well, causing the bonds to sting them painfully.  _

_On the ground lay Fleur, barely conscious and moaning.  Her body was covered with wounds and bruises, some fresh and some already in the last stages of healing.  Ron was shocked to note that she appeared to have lost weight.  It didn't make sense.  They had just seen her at lunch.  If she had been abducted in the Death Eater attack, it would only have been hours ago.  Certainly not long enough for her to sustain these kinds of injuries._

_Neither Ron nor Harry had very much time to wonder about this because several things happened next that required all of their attention.  The first was that Peter Pettigrew, former rat and current lackey of Voldemort, came striding through the flames as though they were nothing more than bath curtains.  His silver hand gleamed as he gestured almost negligently towards them and the bonds fell away._

_The boys leapt up, staggering as their legs, asleep the last few hours, tingled excruciatingly._  _They had no wands, but both were determined not to go down without a fight._

_Hello?  Ron thought, experimentally, in case the voices were still there.  No answer.  They were on their own._

_Next, quite unbelievably, an enormous snake with wings rose up out of the earth beside Fleur and started talking to Ron.  _

[So.  It is you.] !amusement! [You don't know how I have longed to meet you.]

_"Ah, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really feel that way about you.  Not really my type, you see.  Bit too scaly."_

_Harry stared at his friend in amazement.  "You can understand that thing?"_

_"Yeah.__  It's like those voices I was telling you about earlier.  Why, can you hear it, too?"_

_"Well, yes.  It's speaking Parseltongue, isn't it?"_

_Pettigrew had not moved during this exchange, but the snake creature had moved closer and was now hovering above them.  Its strange yellow eyes peered into Harry's green ones.  It was so close Harry could feel the puffs of its breath stir his hair.  _

[Ahh, yes.  I feel it!] !excitement!  _It turned to Pettigrew.  _[This is the one.  Tell your master I am pleased.  I will take the other as well.] !hunger/excitement!

_Pettigrew bowed obsequiously, and in the instant his back was turned, Ron hurled himself upon the man who had once posed as his pet.  Harry, blind and wandless, did the only thing he could think of.  Stooping, he grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it directly into the glaring yellow eyes of the winged snake.  It shrieked in pain and fury and emitted a blast of fire that Harry narrowly avoided by dropping to the ground and rolling sideways.  As he did so, he grabbed Fleur, dragging her with him._

[That was stupid, boy.] !rage/anger/pain! [You cannot begin to imagine the ways in which you will suffer for this.] !rage/hunger/excitement!

_The beast lashed its tail wildly, stirring up clouds of dust.  Having the advantage of surprise, Ron had succeeded in knocking Pettigrew to the ground, face first, and was pummeling him from behind.  Initially, Pettigrew was too stunned to respond but recovered enough to work an arm free.  Again, the silver hand gestured, and the flames parted to admit the Death Eaters, who immediately rushed to his aid._

_Oh boy, thought Harry.  This is it.  Either that snake thing is going to eat us or the Death Eaters will hit us with the Avada Kedavra.  Neither eventuality was appealing.  He let go of Fleur and dove in to help Ron.  If they were going to die, he might as well get in a few good licks on Rat Boy first.  He swung his fist hard and connected satisfyingly._

_"OW!"  Ron clutched his jaw, reeling backward. "What the hell did you do THAT for?!"_

_"Oops.  Sorry," muttered Harry.  "Can't see too well right now."_

_The Death Eaters were advancing towards them, wands out.  Pettigrew grinned and reached out with his glowing hand.  Above them the snake screamed and hissed.  Assuming an instinctively defensive position, Ron and Harry found themselves once more back to back._

_It was horribly poetic, Harry thought.  He was about to be killed by same bastard who had betrayed his parents.  He thought of his mother and father, nothing more than misty images to him, and how they had once counted Pettigrew among their closest friends.  A rage began to build inside him.  THE . . . HELL . . . WITH . . . THIS!  He could feel something hot and powerful coursing through his veins.  It seemed to be centered just over his solar plexus. He felt as though he were going to fly out of skin.   And then somehow, he knew.  He knew that even though they were outnumbered and without their wands, he and Ron would get out of this one.  He knew that he would kill the first person that made a move towards them, and along with the rage, he could feel a wild exhilaration that made him laugh suddenly._

_"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Ron asked, accusingly.  "This is great.  What a great time for you to go off the deep end.  And you make fun of _me _for hearing voices."  Which reminded him of something.  _

_Okay, if I'm not crazy, now would be a really good time for you to help us out here, Ron thought to the invisible voices.  He bared his teeth at Pettigrew and decided that if he was indeed crazy, he might as well go with it.  "You don't scare me, you verminous prat," he yelled.  "You touch me, you die!"  For good measure, he cocked his fists, throwing in another line from one of the Muggle action movies he so enjoyed.  "Taste my pain, bitch!"_

_At that moment the world exploded in a frenzy of wings, claws, and fiery breath.  The Death Eaters scattered under the attack and were pursued by vengefully screeching dragons._

_"Stand and fight, you cowards," Pettigrew shrieked as he scurried towards the trees._

_Harry and Ron stood open-mouthed, too shocked to move.  "Well what do you know," said Ron, smugly.  "It worked."  He turned to Harry and blanched.  "Uh, Harry?"_

_"Yeah?"__  Harry couldn't take his eyes from the dragons as they dove and flamed._

_"You're, um, glowing.  And you're sort of, um, hovering."_

_Harry looked down and saw that his feet were indeed a couple of inches off the ground.  "Oh."  He took a deep breath and mentally unclenched whatever it was that he'd been about to wield, and was relieved when the glowing stopped and his feet touched ground.  "I'll tell you about it later."_

_The snake creature, hissing defiantly, winked out of sight in a green flash.  The Death Eaters, bleeding and in some cases burned, were Apparating away from the scene at a remarkable rate.  Pettigrew had vanished._

_"Help me with her," said Ron, as he tried to lift a half-conscious Fleur._

_A dragon with dark-green scales and long, glittering golden horns settled to the ground in front of them.  It folded its wings and regarded Ron with gleaming, opalescent eyes._

[Sorry we were late.  Our care-takers had taken great pains to secure us after the . . . the attack.  It was difficult for us to extricate ourselves.] !pain/sorrow/determination!

_Ron scarcely dared to breathe.  It was talking to him!  Apparently, he was not crazy._

_"What's it doing?"  Harry asked, eyeing the dragon apprehensively.  The last time he'd been this close to a dragon, it had been doing its best to roast him alive during the Tri-Wizard tournament._

_"Didn't you hear what it said?  It was apologizing for taking so long to rescue us."  Ron's voice was awed._

_Harry stared at his friend.  "No. I don't hear anything."_

_"But . . . but . . . you could hear that snake thing . . ."_

_"Well, yeah.  It was a snake.  I can talk to those.  Are you trying to tell me that you can talk to dragons?"_

_Ron swallowed.  Aside from beating the pants off of anyone at chess, he wasn't aware that he possessed any special abilities.  He watched action movies.  He knew there was a hero and a sidekick, and he had no illusions about which role he played._

[It's all right.] !amusement! [Tell him.  You are a Dragon Empath.  It runs in your blood.]

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"I said," Harry repeated, "are you telling me you can talk to dragons?"_

_"No, I wasn't asking you," Ron said absently.  "I was asking her.  The dragon."_

_"Well, I guess that answers that question," said Harry._

[The other of your Blood image of Charlie is also somewhat empathic.  It is why he chose to work with us.  But his perception is very limited.  In you, the power runs true.] !gladness/welcome/recognition!

_Evidently, the dragons had roused their handlers, and dragoneers were now Apparating into the clearing.  Two wizards were administering emergency magical first aid to Fleur, while another witch insisted that Harry and Ron sit and be examined for injuries._

_The other dragons ranged themselves behind the one that had spoken to Ron and sat with wings folded, docile as house cats, watching the proceedings with half-lidded eyes._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So there you have it."  Ron leaned back against a cushion he had propped behind him.  He searched the hamper hopefully for another piece of chicken and shrugged resignedly when he found none.

Hermione had grabbed a quill and parchment and was scribbling furiously.  "Okay, I have a bunch of questions.  I want to look up some things.  There's just so much . . . I mean, Ron, did you talk to anyone about being an empath?  Did you talk to anyone else in your family about it?  The dragon said it ran in your blood, right?  And Harry, have you ever experienced that sort of power surge since then?  What did it feel like?  And what was that thing the dragons mentioned?  The Kulshedra?  I've got to look that up.  And why were you interested in those Muggle disappearances that were in the paper?  Oh, _how_ could you not have told me about all this?  Think of all the time we've been wasting.  Well, never mind, I can see why you'd have a hard time talking about it, and I know how boys are about keeping their little secrets, but honestly . . ."  

The rest of her words were cut off as Ron firmly clapped a hand over her mouth.  He looked at Harry with sympathy.  "Good luck with all this, mate.  I'm for bed."  He let go of Hermione's mouth and, ignoring her indignant sputtering, pecked her on the cheek.  "'Night, 'Mione.  C'mon, Gin, let's go.  I want to check on Fleur."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they climbed the stairs, Ginny said, "Ron?  Can I ask you something?"

He paused.  "Depends.  Are you going to do a Hermione and put me through the third degree?  'Cause I'm just about out of fascinating revelations tonight."

Ginny hesitated.  "What happened to Fleur?  Not today, I mean.  Then."

Ron sighed.  "I don't think I'll ever really know."  It was several moments before he continued.  "I think that wherever that . . . thing took her, it was bad.  She was only gone for a few hours, but from the condition she was in, it seemed like she'd been gone for weeks.  She had . . . injuries that were old and already healed.  She wasn't the only one who'd been taken, you know."

Ginny's eyes widened.

"Two other girls were taken from the student delegation. They were never found.  And there were stories of girls in the nearby village who'd gone missing as well, but a connection was never proved."

"But why her?  Why Fleur?"

Ron shrugged, his expression bleak.  "She and the other girls had the bunks nearest the door.  They were convenient."

"At first, you know, right after," Ron went on, "she couldn't even talk. It was like she was trapped in her own head.  And then when she did eventually start to recover, it was obvious that whole parts of her memory were just gone.  She didn't remember her family or school or anything." Or me, he didn't say.  She didn't remember me as the daft little git whose most memorable accomplishment was having Harry Potter as a friend.  To her, I was a hero.  "Her family did not handle the news well.  Wanted to put her in an institution.  She was alone and scared, so . . ."

"You came to her rescue," said Ginny, with a half smile.  "You are a good guy, Ron Weasley."

"Yeah, well, I might have had an ulterior motive or two, when I invited her to come stay at the Burrow that summer."

Ginny remembered how their parents had forbidden anyone to ask questions.  The pale, silent girl had simply been accepted into the Weasley household, like a wounded stray in need of a place to heal.  Which in a way she had been.  Not that Fleur had disrupted much.  In midst of the colorful, noisy Weasley clan, she had faded into the background like a beautiful ghost.

"She trusted me," said Ron.  "I was one of the only people in the world she knew.  This is going to sound cheesy, so if you ever repeat it, I will deny ever having said it, but when she looked at me, it made me want to _be_ heroic.  It made me feel like I could be."

One of the things Ginny loved best about her brother was that, for all his blustering, he really was a humble person.  He had no idea that being brave and kind and loyal were heroic traits.  She thought about all the owls he had gotten from Fleur after he'd returned to school and she had gone back to Beauxbatons.  She thought that even in her wounded state, Fleur had been able to see that quite clearly.

"Fleur had to re-learn a lot of things at school," said Ron, as if he knew Ginny'd been thinking of Fleur at Beauxbatons.  "It was rough.  And when she asked if she could come stay with us for the summer again, I won't deny I was happy about it.  She said she missed me."  Even now, his voice held a touch of bewilderment.  "You know, I asked her one time if she needed me or if she just needed someone."

"What did she say?"

Ron grinned.  "I decided it didn't matter."

They had reached the room now, but Ginny had one last question.

"Ron, did you . . . did you keep from telling me all this stuff because of what happened to me with Tom Riddle?"

"What, like, did I want to protect you?"

"No.  I mean, did you think maybe I couldn't be trusted?"  Ginny's face was red.  She had to know.

Ron squeezed his sister's hand.  "Never.  Really, I mean it."  He waited till she met his eyes.  "I just wasn't ready to talk about it.  Not even with Harry, and he was there.  But if I had wanted to tell someone in our family, it would have been you."

Ginny grinned, relieved. "Thanks.  Thanks for trusting me."

"Although," said Ron, "I'm not sure why I should, after the whole Woober incident."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry shut the door behind Ron and Ginny and turned in time to see Hermione sweep an armload of parchment off her desk and into the waste bin.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, that was some research I was doing earlier.  I was trying to find out about the Dark Mark, when it was used, symbolism, etc.  You know, trying to figure out what was going on."  She raised an eyebrow.  "Clearly I was on the wrong track there, but now I know what kinds of things I need to be looking up."

"Later."

"Actually, I should have some of the books I need right here.  I can just – mmmph!"

For the sake of expediency, Harry abandoned verbal argument.  He simply pinned her to the wall and proceeded to kiss her senseless.


End file.
